Unclaimed Baggage
by Bouncemess
Summary: Picking up where Subterfuge ended. Adam Macks may be dead, but that's not the end of the story, things are just heating up....
1. Chapter 1

Yes, the guys are talking to me again :) Review and let me know what you think, and thanks to all for reading!

Do not own Four Brothers, do not profit from this work of fiction.

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**Chapter 1: Life After Monsters**

Three days. It had been three long days since he'd watched Adam Macks die in front of him. He knew he was dead and would never come back. This time the monster was gone for good. He wasn't going to spring back to life with another face, lurking in the shadows and waiting for a chance to pounce when it was least expected. Knowing this and feeling safe were two different things. He wasn't sleeping, but he didn't think Bobby had realized that. His brothers were too busy to notice much of anything that was going on around them.

The Mercer's had celebrated the demise of Adam Macks in their own way by breaking out some good whiskey and ordering pizza while Bobby gave Craig his medication and sent him to lie on the couch. Craig refused to allow himself to be drugged to sleep or into a state of numbness. He didn't need the pills to make him numb anyway. He wondered how many pills had accumulated under the couch cushion over the past few days. He didn't bother trying to make a mental count, he didn't really care that much. There were a few stuffed under the mattress of his bed as well, and he'd flushed a few doses.

The teenager should have been happy about the death of the man who had made his life hell for so long, but it was as if he was empty inside. There was no joy or grief, only an empty feeling, as if part of his life was over and he wasn't sure what that left. He no longer felt the fear that he'd become so accustomed to, and it was odd to him. He didn't know what he was supposed to feel, but whatever it was, it wasn't there. He thought about trying to talk to Bobby about it, but his all of his brothers had been busy.

There had been trips to the police station, and they had even had to talk to the FBI. Craig had been left out of most of it, but he wasn't sure how. The cops had talked to him once, and he hadn't said much to them, he'd only told them the reason he'd been in the cemetery. His history with Adam Macks was already on record and there was no reason to go into those details. In between taking care of business with the cops, the Mercers had also been dealing insurance companies and Jeremiah's business problems.

Nothing had been said to the youngest brother first hand, but he'd heard bits and pieces of conversations about money and the lack of it. The sooner Jeremiah could get his project back into operation the better off all of them were going to be. Craig stayed off to himself most of the time and his brothers went about the business they needed to tend to.

Craig didn't mind being left to his self for the most part. He was trying to figure his own feelings out. It seemed he'd gone from an emotional overload to emotional nothing, and it felt strange. He found that if he sat on the couch with his school books no one bothered him too much. It also gave him a chance to catch up, slowly, on some of his assignments. Bobby had been surprised when he found him that first morning with his history book in his lap and Sponge Bob on the television turned down so low that he could barely hear it.

Jack had tried talking to him once, but Craig didn't feel like dealing with Jack yet. Jack had steered clear of him since. He wasn't angry with Jack anymore, but he wasn't happy with him either. He felt nothing. No anger, no fear, no sadness or joy. It was empty. He wasn't sure when the veil of nothing had fallen over him, but it seemed it was at the cemetery, when he'd watched his father die. He had been thankful that night when Bobby had let him sleep in his own bed without questioning him too much about it. He hadn't really slept, but he'd done a good job of faking it when Bobby came in to check on him later in the night. He hadn't gotten out of bed the next morning until Bobby came for him, but he hadn't really slept. He had spent the entire day on the couch lost in his thoughts, and trying to make it look like he was studying in an attempt to keep his brothers at a distance. His brothers came and went, announcing their departures and arrivals as if he should have some kind of opinion about what they were doing. Bobby was the worst, making sure the younger Mercer acknowledged that he was being left in the care of another brother for a short time.

The second day of being Adam Macks free was pretty much like the first, without too many interruptions from any of his brothers, though they were home most of the day. They spent most of their time seated around the dining room table talking, Jeremiah had been there and it seemed someone was always on the phone. The only time Craig's privacy was interrupted was when Bobby decided he needed to eat, take his pills and nap. The teen went through all of the motions, doing what Bobby told him without question. When he took the pills he'd go directly back to the couch, spit them out into his hand and stuff them down the cushion, unless he was able to go to the restroom without an escort, if that opportunity came up he'd flush the pills. When he went to bed at night they ended up under his mattress.

It was that third day that it started to get a little harder to keep to himself. Bobby wanted him to ride with them all to the police station. He seemed to have a problem with leaving him alone at the house. Craig didn't understand why, it wasn't as if he was worried about it himself. He didn't have to watch out the windows for signs of his father just outside. Of course the closest he'd managed to get to being alone was when he went to bed at night, and he still didn't feel alone then. His door was left open and Bobby checked on him at least once in the night. The man seemed concerned for some reason, asking if he was sure he was up to sleeping in his own room, alone. Craig couldn't explain it to the man, he wanted have the time to himself. He didn't need to know that his brother close by, he didn't care.

Craig wanted to tell Bobby he would be fine alone at the house for the short time that they needed to be at the police station, but decided not to start the conversation. He figured it would be easier to go with them than it would be to have Bobby questioning his reasons for not wanting to. The reasons weren't really clear to him and that would make it difficult to explain. He didn't want to be at the police station, he didn't want people looking at him, again, like they all did before. He didn't want his brothers babying him in public, and that was bound to happen, he was sure. He just wanted to forget the past month had ever happened and it was easier to do if he could hide away in the house. None of those reasons would really touch the true feelings he had, and even if they did he was sure they wouldn't go over too well with Bobby.

All he could do while he waited for his brothers to get ready to leave was sit on the couch and hide behind a school book in an attempt to look as if he were absorbed completely in the finer points of the English lesson he was supposedly working on. It was almost noon and the men were still upstairs getting ready. Craig had Sponge Bob on the television again because there wasn't anything else on. He wasn't paying much attention to the program anyway. His eyes were fixed on his English book, and his mind was whirling around his private thoughts; the same thoughts he'd been mulling over for days now.

It seemed the Mercers had talked to more cops in the past three days than any of them had in their entire lives. As much as Bobby hated cops Craig was amazed none of them had been come up missing, or dead during one of their visits. But then, Bobby's attitude towards the uniform seemed to have changed. He still bad mouthed them, and most of them were not met with kind eyes or a smile, but Johnson and some of the officers he'd gotten familiar with in the short time that had passed since Adam Macks' death got a friendly greeting from Bobby, and that just didn't feel right. Green was different, they had known Green before he was a cop, so that didn't feel wrong, but the rest of it felt wrong.

Jeremiah was supposed to meet them there, and at the moment Bobby, Angel and Jack were upstairs taking turns at the shower. Craig could hear the yelling and bitching from his seat on the couch. He was thankful that he'd been taking his showers at night. He didn't want to be in the middle of the arguing. He'd heard enough yelling to last him a life time. He was ready for some peace and quiet, the way it had been when it was just him and Evelyn in the house. He missed that part of his life, the quiet.

Jack was the first to come down the stairs, which surprised Craig until he heard Bobby yelling from above. "You can do your fucking primpin' after we've had our chance to get a shower."

Jack laughed as he dropped down in the chair next to the fireplace. His hair was wet, so he'd had his shower. He glanced at the television before he looked at Craig and hesitated for a moment before speaking. "You're watching Sponge Bob?" He asked.

"Not really." Craig looked at his brother for short moment before returning to the school book in his hands.

"You don't mind if I change the channel then?" Jack reached towards the coffee table to grab the remote control. He started flipping the channels before Craig had a chance to answer the question. Not that it bothered the teen much, he hadn't been paying attention to the box; it had only been a source for background noise, to keep the room from feeling so quiet.

Ten minutes later Angel hit the bottom of the steps in a cheerful mood. He walked into the living room and dropped down on the couch next to Craig. "What you doing there kid?" He leaned over to see the book. "Grammar," He let out a chuckle.

Craig sighed and looked at Angel. "You want to help me?" None of his brothers had shown much interest in the school work he had to catch up on. He wasn't interested either, and it wasn't as if he was actually accomplishing anything except for being to himself. He didn't think Angel would agree to help, and he wasn't disappointed.

"Not now kid, we got shit to do. Why don't you just put the book down for a while?" Angel grinned. "You got a chance to just relax a little, why ain't you been relaxing?" He grabbed the book and pulled it from the boy's hands.

Craig could feel his time alone slipping away. He tried not to let it show outwardly, but he did reach for the book in an attempt to retrieve it from Angel. "I need to catch up." He muttered and he could feel the frown trying to etch on his face. He struggled against it, but feared he was losing the battle.

"Yeah, you do, but not right now. You've been at it for two days straight, you should have quite a bit done." Angel pulled the book out of Craig's reach and tossed it onto the coffee table.

Craig gave up and rested his head back on the couch. He didn't try to argue, it wouldn't do any good. There was one thing he'd learned in the past month; when his brothers decided to pay some attention to him, he wasn't going to be able to get rid of them until they found something else to occupy them.

"You've been too quiet. You need to talk?" Angel spoke quietly, and his expression changed to one that showed he was serious.

Craig shook his head slowly. "No. I don't need to talk."

Jack glanced over but didn't say anything despite the fact that his mouth started to open. Craig was sure Jack was still being cautious around him. He didn't care to talk to Jack, Angel or Bobby. He had nothing to say. He wasn't angry, he wasn't upset, and he had no reason to talk about anything that had happened. He didn't want to talk about Jack's lie, or his other brothers keeping things from him. He didn't want to talk about Adam Macks being dead and gone for good. It all felt wrong. It didn't feel normal the way he'd expected it to. It didn't feel like anything.

Angel reached out and slid an arm around the teen's shoulders. "You know, it's a lot of shit to deal with, and you've hardly said a word for two days. Don't think none of us have noticed that, because we have."

Craig didn't turn to look at Angel. He had known that eventually someone would approach him with the idea of talking about the recent series of events. He had hoped it would be a little while longer, so that he might have a chance to sort things out for himself. How was he supposed to explain what he was feeling when there was nothing there? There was nothing inside of him. He pulled away from his brother and stood. "I'm getting a glass of water." He muttered. It was the only thing he could think of to get away from the crowded feel the room was taking on.

He wasn't actually thirsty, but as soon as he walked through the kitchen door the back door opened and Jeremiah walked in. He was sure it had been decided that Jerry would meet them all at the police station, but there he was, ruining his attempt as achieving some distance between him and his brothers. He got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water while Jeremiah said his good morning to him.

"How are you feeling? You doin' okay?" Jerry stepped over and gave him a quick hug.

"I'm fine." Craig managed to pull back from Jerry without it feeling too awkward, he hoped. He didn't want to be touched, though he hadn't relayed that to any one, recently.

"Hopefully this will be the last time we gotta go through this shit." Jerry shrugged off his coat and laid it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

Craig leaned back against the counter and started drinking his water, hoping his brother wouldn't go on forever about this trip to the police station.

"Are you up to talking to the cops this morning?" Jeremiah asked the question slowly.

Craig lowered the glass. Bobby hadn't told him he had to talk to anyone. No, he wasn't up to it. "Sure." He muttered, but the surprise must have shown on his face.

"Bobby didn't tell you?" Jeremiah scowled for just a moment, but managed to wipe the concern off his face. "I didn't know he didn't tell you. He's gonna kill me." He muttered and walked on through the kitchen to the foyer.

Craig took another drink of his water and wondered why the police would want to talk to him again. He had told them all he was going to. He hadn't had to go with any of his brothers the past few times they'd gone down to the police station. In fact, Bobby had made the remark that there wouldn't be any reason for him to have to talk to anyone else about what had happened three days earlier.

The teen nursed his water for another few minutes, until he heard heavy boots hitting the stairs. Bobby was coming down. He was sure Jeremiah would say something about his slip of the tongue. He wanted to hear what Bobby said about it. He put the glass down on the counter and walked to the doorway to listen.

"Hey Jerry, I thought we agreed we would meet at the police station." Bobby spoke from the living room.

"Yeah, and we also agreed that you were gonna tell Craig the FBI wanted to ask him some questions." Jeremiah responded.

"You said somethin' to the kid, didn't you Jerr'?" It was Angel's voice that responded to Jeremiah's comment.

"Well ya' all said you were gonna talk to him." Jeremiah defended himself. "Why didn't you?"

"Because he's been doin' good, I didn't want to ruin it for him. I was hoping I could get down there and keep it from happening." Bobby answered. "Where is he?"

"He's in the kitchen. He seemed okay when I fucked up and let it slipped. Hell, if I'd known you hadn't told him I would have kept my mouth shut."

Craig quickly ducked back into the kitchen before Bobby headed his way. He didn't want his brother to catch on that he'd been listening in. It was something he'd gotten good at the past few days, honing in on conversations that weren't really meant for him. He wasn't sure why he'd picked up the habit. The only thing he could really think about was the talk he'd overheard between Bobby and Jack the night before the cemetery ordeal. That had been his first clue that there were secrets being kept from him and that he couldn't trust his brothers' word for much. It wasn't the way he wanted to feel, he wanted to be able to count on them, and feel safe with them, but it wasn't going to happen, not now. Not for a long time. The fact that Bobby hadn't been up front with him about having to talk to the Feds only made him feel less confident with anything they told him.

Craig filled the glass with some more water and took another long drink as Bobby walked into the kitchen.

"Hey there kid." The man smiled at him, "You're doin' okay this morning?" He asked.

"Great." Craig pulled the glass down and muttered.

"Jerry told me he ran his mouth." Bobby forced a smile.

"Yeah," Craig wanted to ask Bobby why he'd lied to him and tell him he wasn't going to talk to anyone, no matter who it was, but he held it in. He had come to the conclusion that it did no good to tell anyone what he did or didn't want to do. He hadn't wanted to talk to the D.A. days before, but he'd been forced to. It wouldn't make a difference now either.

"Look, I don't think you'll have to talk to anyone, really, that's why I didn't say anything. The government guys seem to think you can answer some questions for them, but…" Bobby started to explain his actions.

"It's okay." Craig muttered. "It doesn't matter." He took another drink of his water, hoping Bobby would stop talking about it.

Bobby stood in front of him, his eye brows moving slightly closer to each other for a moment. "Really, it's okay?" He didn't look or sound as if he believed the statement; in fact he looked as if he were going to keep speaking, but for some reason held back.

Craig purposely waited until he'd drained his water before speaking. "Sure." He gave his shoulders a slight shrug and set the glass on the counter.

Bobby let out a short huff and shook his head. "You don't gotta act like it's no big deal. I know you don't want to talk to them." His voice sounded a little stressed.

"It's okay." Craig repeated his earlier statement. "It's not like you can change it, right?" He added, not meaning to speak what he was thinking. "I gotta pee before we go." He turned to walk out of the kitchen.

"Hey, I'm not done here." Bobby reached for him.

Craig pulled his arm back before Bobby could grab hold, but stopped and looked at the man.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this, but if I can, I'm gonna get you out of it, okay?" Bobby looked surprised that his younger brother had pulled back from him. "They don't gotta talk to you about shit. You just tell them what you told them before."

"Sure, whatever," Craig muttered. "Can I go pee now?" He asked.

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "Okay, hurry the hell up though; we're about ready to leave." He motioned for Craig to go.

The fourteen year old turned and walked out of the kitchen quickly, thankful that he was able to get away from Bobby before anything else could be said. Keeping himself detached from Bobby was harder than he'd thought it would be. With his other brothers it was difficult, but with Bobby it felt practically impossible. He wanted too badly for Bobby to make things okay, despite knowing he wasn't going to, or that he couldn't.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the delay, and thanks to everyone for the support I've gotten this past week :) You guys are the best! Let me know what you think and as always, thanks for reading.

Still don't own, still make no money.

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**Chapter 2: Police Station**

Craig wasn't surprised when Jeremiah offered to drive them all to the police station. Apparently the plan had been that Jeremiah would meet them all there, but he had figured his services would be needed, and despite the fact that he was right, no one was about to come right out and thank him. Bobby's car was in the shop, Angel still didn't have any kind of vehicle, and Sofi's car had been totaled as well. Sofi's brother had loaned the family a vehicle, but it turned out to be an ancient AMC Gremlin. The car was supposed to be a classic, according to Sofi's brother; but the wide, stubby compact, aged nearly thirty years, was showing wear and rust; and the ride was pretty cramped.

Bobby refused to drive it, Angel ducked down to hide when he was riding in it, and Jack was the only one who drove it because he liked the way it steered. Of course he was awarded for this with the usual gay jokes from Bobby and Angel. Craig had listened from the couch the day before while Bobby and Angel both jabbed fun at Jack's apparent approval of the car, and he half wished Jack would fight back against the two older men and the fun they were poking in his direction, not because he cared about Jack being made fun of, but because the jokes seemed so old and monotonous. He was tired of listening to them.

Jack seemed to be dealing with the jokes a little differently than he had before, he just smiled right along with them and laughed while he took the keys from Bobby, apparently feeling that having the chance to be the driver in the family for a change was worth the gay jokes, for now. Craig hadn't said anything, he had acted as if he hadn't heard or paid any attention to any of it. He didn't really care what his brothers were doing, it didn't matter.

Craig climbed into the back seat of the Volvo, and was surprised when Bobby moved into the back seat as well pushing the boy into the middle. Angel climbed in on Craig's other side while Jack got into the front seat. Craig wasn't sure how Jack had managed to get the front seat and to be honest he didn't care. He didn't want to be in the car, no matter who was sitting in the back seat with him. He wanted to be back in the house where he could hide from the rest of the world. The past few days he'd been able to push the rest of the world away and hold it at bay, now he was being thrust back into it. He wanted to feel pissed at Bobby for lying to him, but he didn't care, not really, just like everything else about his life, he just didn't give a shit.

"This shouldn't take long, kid." Bobby pulled his arm around the teen's shoulders in the same way that had become routine for both of them in the past month. Craig's muscles tensed up just as they had earlier when Angel had reached his arm around him in a similar way on the couch. He started to pull forward to put a few inches between himself and Bobby, but the man's hand found a hold on his shoulder and pulled him back with a quick motion, "Won't take too long at all, that's a promise." Craig tried to pinpoint exactly what it was in Bobby's voice that changed, despite the fact that he still sounded pleasant his tone took on an edge that Craig hadn't heard for a few days and had hoped not to hear for a while. It was that sound it had when Bobby was tense, or expected something.

Craig waited for Bobby to ease up the hold he had taken, but it didn't happen, in fact his brother pulled him a little closer, his arm hooked around his neck as if to keep him from pulling away and he leaned closer to the teen. "After we get this police shit out of the way, why don't you and me spend some time together, just the two of us? I ain't had time to talk to you the past couple of days like I wanted to. I'm sorry about that, but you know how crazy it's been, right?" He kept his voice quiet.

"I know." Craig muttered, trying to make it sound as if he really cared. He hadn't forgotten his brother's promise for a long talk and it wasn't something he was looking forward to if he had to be honest. He didn't want to talk, and he didn't want to be back under Bobby's radar. He had managed to avoid any uncomfortable talks or looks. He had been able to hide behind his books without anyone pushing him for something he wasn't ready to give, and now it seemed that short time of peace and solitude, the chance to hide inside himself was drawing to a close and he wasn't ready for that, just yet. "It's okay."

"Really, it's okay? Just like talking to the cops is okay?" Bobby's voice remained quiet, but sarcasm weaved into the syllables of each word. "Oh, hell, we really do need to talk." He shook his head and sat up in the seat, not releasing his hold on Craig.

Craig could feel his gut tense, and knew if the rest of his body was about to follow suit. He bit down on the inside of his mouth in an attempt to keep his nerves calm. He'd known his brother would eventually stop leaving him to himself, and he was going to have to deal with it.

Bobby didn't push it any further at the moment, thankfully, and the rest of the ride his brothers fell into their usual talk about insurance and cars and the warehouse and the project. Craig was able to tune it all out and fall into his safe, numb blankness. He was safe, at least for the time being, and there was no reason to worry about anything else for the moment.

The police house was buzzing with activity, and though Craig could feel his nerves prick at his insides his brothers seemed comfortable with their surroundings. The ease in which they moved through the halls and spoke to some of the uniformed officers should have given the boy some comfort but it had the opposite effect on him. There were a few officers that acknowledged the men, and the while the greetings weren't necessarily friendly, they weren't hostile. Obviously the presence of the Mercers in a police house was as awkward for most of the cops as it was for Craig, and the teen couldn't help but wonder why his brothers seemed so comfortable with their surroundings. There had been quite a few trips to the police station in the past couple of days but he couldn't quite adjust his way of thinking to the level he needed in order to understand how they seemed to fall into place in a police station.

The man that finally met them shook hands with each and said hello to them as if he'd known them for years and it had the irrational effect of irritating Craig a little. "Craig, I don't know if you remember me, I'm Sergeant Johnson." He held a hand out in Craig's direction, but the boy made sure to bury his hands deep in his coat pocket.

"Yeah, I remember you." Craig did remember him from the cemetery, and from the questioning that had followed. He was sure he'd seen him before as well, but didn't feel like putting too much effort into remembering.

Johnson's smile wavered slightly and he pulled his hands back.

Bobby's arm, still resting across Craig's shoulders, stiffened slightly. "Hey, you need to show some fucking manners here. This man saved us some major shit; you know that, don't you?"

"It's okay. He's not comfortable being here, I understand that. After some of the crap you've gone through recently with other officers, I can see why you'd be cautious." Johnson kept the smile as he spoke. "Why don't you go have a seat over there?" He pointed to what appeared to be a waiting area at the end of the hall.

Craig started to move towards the chairs, but Bobby didn't let go of him. "We really wanted to get this over with and get the hell out of here Johnson." Bobby pulled the boy closer to him. "That FBI guy that wanted to talk to him, where is he?"

Johnson sighed. "He's not here yet Bobby. But by the time you're finished he should be here."

"He ain't talking to him alone, you know that. I ain't leavin' here by himself either. He comes with us for our talk, and then when we're done if your buddy in the suit and tie ain't here he can forget any questions. What the hell does he need to ask him anyway?" Bobby didn't sound happy.

"You really want him sitting in on the questions they're going to be asking?" Johnson's smile faded as he looked at Bobby. "No one is going to bother him out here…"

"He ain't stayin' out here by his self." Bobby shook his head. "You got an office he can wait in? I might consider leavin' him in an office. Oh, shit, that's right, you ain't got a fuckin' office, you're just a little guy around here, ain't you Johnson?" Bobby let a grin spread across his face. "Shit, maybe we need to talk to someone around here with some real fucking clout, what the hell am I talking to you for?"

Johnson folded his arms across his chest and smiled as Bobby spoke. "You're right, I ain't got much clout around here, but I'm still the fucking hero, you know? I broke the Macks case wide open, and figured out who shot Green." He sounded amused.

"You didn't figure out shit, we did all your fucking work for you, and Green knows that." Bobby spoke quickly.

"Yeah, he knows it, but since you ain't fucking cops, that don't get you much around here." Johnson kept his smile plastered to his face and let out a sigh. "Okay, this is what we can do; we can let him sit at Green's desk while you guys are in the interview rooms." He spoke casually. "Will that work for you? I'll be hanging around out here anyway, and I'll keep an eye on him."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Jeremiah remarked quietly.

"No one will mess with him?" Bobby was giving in far too easy for Craig's comfort. He seemed to trust Johnson and it just felt wrong to the teenager.

"No one will mess with him." Johnson shook his head. "I give you my word."

Bobby turned Craig around to face him. "You gonna be okay by yourself for a few minutes? I won't be too long; I'll make sure of it."

Craig shrugged his shoulders. He didn't care if he was left alone for short time, but he wasn't comfortable there. He wasn't comfortable with Johnson, or with the way his brothers seemed to trust the cop so easily. "Sure." He answered Bobby after taking a look around him. He was surrounded by cops, and while he wasn't comfortable with his surroundings he'd never really had a problem with police, only with Higgins.

Johnson waited until his brothers were walking away before he walked Craig into a large room full of desks and pointed to where he could sit. "This is Green's desk." The boy wasn't surprised to find it neat and clean. It was what he would expect from the detective. A window view to the outside world was directly in front of him.

Johnson offered to get him a soda or some kind of snack, but Craig declined and the man excused himself, saying he had some papers he had to sign but that he'd be right back. There were other desks in the room, but no one was sitting in the immediate area. Craig let his body slouch down in the leather seat and pushed back from the desk a foot. The wheels on the chair made the ride a smooth one and he allowed himself to play with the movement, kicking away from the desk, waiting until the wheels stopped moving before pushing his way back to his starting point.

"Hey kid, you think you can sit still over there?" One of the officers sitting on the other side of the room called out.

Craig looked over and felt his face turning hot. He hadn't noticed the men sitting on the other end of the room. He sat up in the chair and slid back up to the desk. He looked out the window in front of him and waited.

There were officers walking past the doorway and there seemed to be a buzz of talking and activity in the hall just outside the door. Craig turned the chair around to face the back wall of the room, wishing he could get up and walk out of there. He wanted to be back at home. He didn't have a problem with the cops, but he had a problem with his brothers' apparent ease at being around the uniforms.

He didn't want to face the true reason for being there at that moment. His father had tried to kill the Mercer family. The fact that the man was dead now didn't matter; he could still see his face and feel his breath on his neck. He could hear his voice and he could remember how it had all made him feel. He wasn't afraid now, but he didn't like thinking about any of it. Being in a police station didn't help him in his efforts to hide out from what had happened the past month; it did the exact opposite because it threw it all in his face, preventing him from turning away.

A large white board on the side wall caught his attention. He held his breath as the pictures of his brothers tacked up on the board came into view. His picture wasn't there, but there were other photos, with lines leading from one picture to another, giving an appearance of a family tree with comments scrawled out in thick red or green marker. The teen turned and looked at the uniformed cop that had scolded him for playing with the chair and was satisfied he was too busy at the moment to pay any attention to what he was doing. He stood and stepped over to take a closer look. The white board seemed to map out everything that had happened to his family since Evelyn Mercer had been shot more than a month earlier.

Craig's mind followed the time line, amazed how much information could be placed on a board with so few words. There were no details written down, just basics; names and locations and actions taken by officers or victims or assailants. Craig followed the hand writing and pictures of his brothers. Jack being shot, his own kidnapping by Sweet, and Bobby, Jeremiah and Angel setting up Sweet, but how the cops knew about all of that didn't make sense. His brothers wouldn't have shared that much with the police would they? Green might have though; he had worked with the Mercers pretty tight back then.

The teenage gang attack on the Mercers the night Bobby's car had been incinerated was documented on the wall as well, with pictures of Anthony and some other boys. Craig followed the lines drawn from Anthony's name down to the bottom of the board where the boy was named as deceased and the date and location noted under that was all too familiar to the boy; the night he'd been dragged from Sofi's mother's apartment. Craig felt his heart thump hard in his chest and he felt confused. Anthony had been there that night? He'd died there?

His mind thought back to the last time he'd spoken to Anthony, in the grocery store. His friend had not been so friendly that evening, in fact it had been an obvious deduction that Anthony had played a part in trying to rig Bobby's car to blow up. Hell, he was in the gang, and at some point he'd gotten involved with Adam Macks. He had helped Craig's father, the boy had been able to figure that much out without anyone talking to him about it. He had dismissed Anthony in his mind, he hadn't thought about him, or wondered about him, and no one had mentioned him. He had been pissed at the older boy who had been such a good friend at one time, feeling betrayed by him all this time, blaming him for helping his father steal him away from the safety of his own home and turning his life into a living hell.

Seeing the word 'deceased' scrawled out in red marker under Anthony's picture just didn't set right with him at that moment. Why hadn't anyone told him Anthony was dead? Hell, he'd thought that Anthony was in jail, or hiding out somewhere, but he never would have guessed that he was dead, or that he had died that same night Craig had been dragged off against his will. If Anthony had been there, then his brothers knew about his death, they would have had to. Why didn't anyone tell him?

Craig stepped back from the board and looked at the rest of the notes and pictures and short comments scrawled out. The last several weeks of his life was mapped out in front of him and it made him feel uneasy. His eyes flicked back to the picture of Anthony. He could feel something stirring inside of him. Regret maybe? Sorry that he'd been angry with a dead friend? He wasn't sure. His emotions had shut down days before and he didn't want them to turn on now. He wasn't ready to face any of what might be lurking below the surface.

"Craig." Johnson called out from the doorway.

Craig turned and looked that cop, but didn't move.

"You found the board, huh?" Johnson walked towards him, a friendly smile on his face.

"Sorry." Craig muttered, sure that he was going to hear how the board was confidential, or it was part of the investigation and he shouldn't be messing with it.

"It's okay, it's not like you don't know the story, right?" Johnson stopped next to him. "I'm sure it's not easy for you to look at though." He sighed.

Craig didn't have a chance to answer before a tall man dressed in a black suit walked into the room. Johnson looked at the man and sighed loudly. "Agent Harris," He acknowledged the man's presence.

"Sergeant Johnson." The man in the black suit gave Johnson a nod. "I assume this young man is Craig Mercer?" His voice seemed void of any emotion and his movements looked calculated. Craig didn't like Agent Harris. There was something about him that turned his stomach.

"Yes, this is Craig Mercer." Johnson rested a hand on Craig's shoulder and guided him back towards the desk he'd been sitting at minutes before.

"Well good, we can get started with our interview then." Harris lifted his brief case and dropped it on top of a vacant desk close by.

"Not until his legal guardian is present, agent." Johnson looked at Craig. "Agent Harris is with the FBI, and he wants to ask you a few questions. Of course that is not going to happen until Bobby is finished with his statement and is able to sit with you during the interview."

Craig returned to the chair at Green's desk and looked up at Harris. "Okay." He muttered in response to Johnson. He watched Harris sit in the chair two desks away while Johnson leaned on the edge Green's vacant desk.

"Sergeant Johnson, I don't have a lot of time here, I have a report that I have to submit by the end of the day, today, and I need this wrapped up soon in order to meet my deadline." Harris started pulling files out of his briefcase. "I believe we can get started now." He didn't look at Craig at all.

"I understand that, Harris, but you have met Bobby Mercer. You really don't want to piss him off any more than you already have. He didn't want this young man to have to come down here at all, and you had him come in here despite that. What exactly are you trying to find out that you don't already know?" Johnson kept his voice even, but Craig had the impression that Johnson didn't like the FBI guy either.

"I'm sorry, that's not something that I can discuss with you." Harris finally looked at Craig. "You don't have a problem with me asking you a few questions, do you young man?"

Craig didn't answer. He didn't like the sound of Harris' voice. The man spoke to him as if he were a nuisance in the room and the boy wanted to tell him he didn't like being there and if he didn't talk to him better he wouldn't tell him shit.

"Like I said, Agent Harris, not until his brother is present." Johnson looked at Craig. "Why don't you come with me Craig? We'll go get a soda, and maybe some chips." He started walking towards the door.

Craig didn't want to get up, but he figured it was better than staying alone in the room with the FBI agent. He stood and followed Johnson into the hallway. "Why does he want to talk to me? I already talked to you once." He muttered.

"Yeah, you answered my questions, and more than likely he is going to ask you the exact same questions, but he has to do his job." Johnson led Craig down the hall towards a break area which held vending machines.

"But I already talked to you. Can't he use what I told you?" Craig asked the question even though he knew the answer.

"He'll ask the same questions, fishing for something to change in your statement, that's all. You just tell the truth and you'll be fine." Johnson assured him.

He didn't want to talk about his father, or the shit that had happened three days earlier. He'd been happy turning into a vegetable on the couch and his means of escaping from reality had been crashed in. He should have been pissed at Bobby for lying to him about going to the station, but he didn't have it in him. He should have been pissed at Harris for talking to him like an ass but again, he didn't have it in him.

Johnson put some change in one of the machines and hit a button. A can of orange soda was in his hand a moment later. He held it towards Craig. "You want?" He offered

Craig shook his head slowly. "No thank you." He spoke the words almost as an afterthought.

"How have you been the past few days?" Johnson asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Fine," He muttered. He didn't want to answer any questions from Johnson either; it wasn't as if he knew the man any better than he knew the FBI guy. He had to admit that when Johnson had asked him questions he'd kept it short and sweet. Not that Craig would have been very much help if the questioning had been more extensive, but Johnson seemed to be able to sense what Craig was comfortable talking about and kept it limited. Harris was going to ask harder questions, Craig had no doubt, and he wouldn't care if Craig liked the questions, or if he had any problems talking about what Adam Macks had done to him or his family.

Harris was cold and Craig didn't like him. He didn't like being at the police station and he didn't like finding out about Anthony. He wanted to be back at home where he could pick up his school book and hide from the rest of the world. That had been easy and safe and his thoughts could to run randomly through his head so that he didn't have to face anything directly. He wondered about the rest of the gang that had been associated with Anthony, how many of them had been involved with his father? How close had Anthony been with Adam? He wondered exactly how Anthony had died. It was something that would nag at him now. It wasn't that he really cared, but knowing might help him understand exactly had happened with Anthony in the end.

Johnson led him back up the hall, but he didn't take him into the same room where Harris was waiting, instead they went into a room across the hall. It looked similar, but there were more desks crowded into the small space, the rumble of voices was a little louder and the activity level was higher. Johnson sat down at a desk and motioned for Craig to sit in a nearby chair. "We'll wait in here until your brothers are finished." He set his soda on the desk and opened a file that was lying in front of him.

Craig waited quietly while Johnson riffled through his paperwork before turning to his computer and typing. The police detective was busy, and babysitting a teenager obviously wasn't something he needed on his agenda.

Craig let his body slide down in the chair and rested his head back while he looked around the room, wishing he could sink further into the chair and disappear. He always seemed to be in the way and he was getting tired of it. A small voice in the back of his head spoke quietly to him. 'You didn't ask to be dragged up here, so if you're in the way it's their fault, not yours.' He watched the men at the other desks, some talking on phones, some typing on their keyboards.

Time seemed to drag by, but finally Johnson's phone rang. Johnson answered the phone and nodded his head before looking at Craig and smiling. "Thanks, you can bring him to my desk." He hung up the phone. "Well, Bobby managed to get kicked out of his interview pretty damn quick." He didn't try to conceal his amusement. "He'll be here shortly." He shook his head.

Craig could hear the sound of his brother's voice long before he actually seen him. "I just want a fucking candy bar, is that too much to ask for? My ass is dragged down here at lunch time and no one can offer a little food? Shit, ain't your mama ever taught you the proper way to treat a guest? You're supposed to offer them some food." Bobby appeared in the door wearing a grin. The uniformed officer walking next to him stopped at the doorway and waited until Johnson gave him a quick nod before walking away.

"You're giving the uniforms a hard time again Bobby?" Johnson sat back in his chair, giving Bobby his full attention.

"Wouldn't have to if they would learn some manners," Bobby walked up to stand next to Craig. "What about you, kid, did this ass hole offer you any food?" He asked.

Craig nodded his head slowly, but didn't bother to look up at his brother or speak. Too many things seemed to overtake his brain once Bobby was back in the room. His brothers hadn't told him about Anthony, and he was sure he should be pissed about that.

"Yes, I offered him something to drink as well." Johnson stood. "Agent Harris is waiting. Are you ready to talk to him?" His attention shifted from Bobby to Craig. "You might as well get it over with, right?"

The fourteen year old found it amusing that Johnson was treating him as if he had a choice when it was obvious he didn't. He couldn't get out of talking the Harris by simply saying he didn't want to. If that was the case he wouldn't have had to come down in the first place and his brothers wouldn't have lied to him to get him there. He stood slowly and allowed Bobby to put an arm around him without cringing at the touch too much. He just wanted to get this over with and get the hell out of there.


	3. Chapter 3

Finally! I didn't think I was ever going to be able to get this one posted. :) Thanks to all for reading, and please remember to review and let me know what you think!

Still do not own, nor is my pocket getting fat with money as a result of this fiction...

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**Chapter 3: Agent Harris**

Agent Harris was a fucking prick. Bobby hadn't been very impressed with him from the start. He had been at the cemetery with another Federal agent, Kirkpatrick. Kirkpatrick had talked to the older Mercers that first day, and he hadn't been too bad to deal with, at least he seemed to have a little common sense.

Harris on the other hand seemed to lack a piece of genetic material that might propel him into the category of human. He did not show emotion or compassion for any of the Mercers concerning what had taken place in the cemetery on New Year's Eve, or what had played out at Jeremiah's warehouse the night before. He seemed to care less that the Mercer family had been thrust into a world of pain and emotional torment for the past month and questioned them all as if they were the suspects in everything that had happened. He'd made several subtle remarks laced with hints of accusation, and had questioned them with a condemning tone in his voice, always insinuating that the Mercers had somehow brought everything down on themselves by not taking the appropriate actions. Hell, what else could they have done? They had informed the cops of everything that was happening. They were working with Johnson and Green, what the hell else could they have done differently? Kirkpatrick had jerked a knot in Harris' chain a few times, telling him to straighten up his line of questioning, and because of that Bobby had more faith in him than Harris and refused to deal with the prick so long as Kirkpatrick was around.

Kirkpatrick had been called out of town on day number two and that left Harris for them to deal with, or that's how Bobby understood it. Harris wanted to ask Craig stupid questions about shit that Kirkpatrick had already gotten answers for. It wasn't anything that he really needed, Bobby was sure of that. Hell, even Green had remarked during a phone call the evening before that it didn't make sense for Harris to need to talk to his little brother. Bobby was willing to give the fucker a few minutes, just long enough to feel him out and see what it was he thought he could get from the kid. The first question he heard that was out of line and he was taking the boy out of there, no ifs, ands, or buts. He wasn't taking a chance on the boy being subjected to any more shit. It was going to be tough enough to get the kid back to what might be half way normal.

He didn't like the way Craig had been acting the past couple of days. He wanted to grab him and shake him hard, just to get some kind of reaction out of him. Nothing seemed to penetrate the hard shell he was hiding behind. Bobby's first instinct was to grab hold of him and smack the back of his head hard enough to jog his brain a bit, maybe jumpstart some activity in that fucking head of his. A month ago he would have done just that, just to get him to do what the hell he wanted him to.

Now it was different. The kid was more than his little brother and somehow yelling and smacking just didn't have the same effect, or appeal. He had no problem smacking Angel or Jack in the back of the head, hell he'd knocked them both a good one that very morning during the debate over the shower; but somehow with Craig it was different now. He wasn't just a big brother to the boy anymore; hell, he wasn't so sure he'd ever been much of a brother to him. He had turned into a fucking parent and how he'd gotten to that point was a mystery to him. Something felt different now though. Being a father type kind of influence for the kid seemed to be floundering now, but it had felt right for as long as it had lasted and he need to reclaim his grasp on it. He needed to fix whatever the hell was wrong between him and the kid and he just didn't know what he needed to do or how to do it.

Somehow, in the past few days, a gap had been forming and he wasn't sure how it had happened. He was afraid to talk to the kid, and wasn't sure why. There hadn't been any kind of issue with pushing the teen to talk or face shit before, he'd developed some kind of instinct about the kid, or so he'd thought, but this just felt different. He wasn't sure Craig was trying to hide from what had happened so much as battling with what the hell he was supposed to do about it; and to be honest that was exactly how Bobby Mercer felt.

He was tired of trying to deal with the bullshit that kept coming up. Every time one problem was taken care of, new, more dangerous shit crept up on his family and screwed them over. What the hell was going to happen to them next? He wasn't sure he wanted to find out. He wanted to get the shit with the cops over and done with and put it all behind them.

There had been talk about Jordan's trial, and the new charges that had been brought against him. The Mercers would have to testify, but Bobby was sure they could keep Craig out of that courtroom; at least he was going to fight with all he had to keep a distance between the boy and the proceedings that would be developing in the months ahead. Enough was enough, and as far as Bobby was concerned this talk with Harris was the last time the youngest Mercer was going to be forced to dredge up memories of what had happened to him in the past month with strangers.

Bobby dropped his arm across the teen's shoulders as they followed Johnson back to where Harris was waiting. He wasn't lost on the tension that seemed to turn the boy's frame rock hard at his touch. The simple gesture had become habit for him, and he'd thought the boy had grown comfortable with it as well, but the past few days seemed to take them back in years as far as comfort and that bothered the parent part of him.

Craig didn't hesitate in taking the chair at the desk with Green's name plate displayed on the chipped and worn wood surface. Harris had papers spread out across the vacant desk he was using and didn't voice much more than a grunt when Johnson greeted him.

Harris had no problem talking to Craig in the middle of the precinct, having taken up a desk next to Green's station. Bobby thought that had to be a good sign that the questions weren't going to be too invasive for the kid to handle. Hell, if the 'Fed' wasn't going to insist on some private room this couldn't be much of anything to worry about.

"I'll be at my own desk, if you need me." Johnson looked at Bobby, obviously speaking to him.

"We will be fine." Harris didn't look up from the papers spread out in front of him. His voice was flat, and seemed to lack that human element that might make a person feel comfortable being in such close proximity to him.

Johnson rolled his eyes and kept his gaze on Bobby. The man didn't turn to walk away until Bobby nodded his head and motioned for him to go. He looked over at Craig, who was swiveling the office chair under him from left to right and back again. "Sit still." He looked around to find an empty chair for himself.

Craig stopped the motion but didn't look up to meet his gaze. Bobby dragged a chair over from a nearby desk and positioned it between Craig and Harris before sitting down. "So, Agent Harris, how the hell are you?" He asked, trying to sound casual.

"Hmmm," Harris didn't look up from the papers. He picked an ink pen up from the desk and made some marks on one of his papers. "Craig, I am sorry to drag you down here, I know this is awkward for you." His words sounded mechanical and practiced; spoken while he read through his papers.

"Yeah, it's awkward for me too, Harris, so why don't you put your papers away and get down to business, or we're out of here?" Bobby let his arms fold across his chest and felt his jaw tense up. He wasn't looking forward to watching this man fling questions at the teenager next to him.

Harris didn't lift his head, but it did turn slightly in Bobby's direction. His eyes shifted position to pull the man into his line of sight, seemingly taking notice of him for the first time. "Mr. Mercer." His lips formed a thin, straight line that looked unnatural; as if he were holding back a frown. Well, hell, at least he was learning to hold the frowns back.

"Agent Harris," Bobby sighed. "Can we get this over with please? I need to get my brother home." He knew it sounded lame. "He's been through a lot of shit, and this ain't the best timing for this, you know?"

Harris finally sat back in his chair, "Of course." He turned to the desk, picked up a clipboard with paper and an ink pen attached and held the board out in Craig's direction. "I would like for you to write down, in your own words the events that led up to your presence in the cemetery on January thirty-first." His voice still lacked the emotion one might expect an adult to show given the circumstances.

"He already gave a statement to the local police about why he was there. It was recorded, can't you use that?" Bobby reached out and took the clipboard when Craig made no move to accept it from the agent.

"Some time has passed. Sometimes, memory improves and something else comes to light after a few days have gone by." Harris kept his gaze fixed on Craig, who was staring at the clipboard in his brother's hands. "I need the statement in writing with a signature in order for it to be admissible in court." He shifted his gaze momentarily to Bobby, but returned it to the boy. "I'm asking nicely, but I can get a warrant and force this." Emotion finally filtered through on his voice, but it was hard, and demanding, holding a threat. "It would be best to co-operate." He finally focused fully on Bobby. He reminded Bobby of a hungry wolf, just aching to take a big chunk of emotional stability out of the kid in front of him. He wanted a reason to rip away at the kid, Bobby could see it in his eyes and it brought those parental instincts he'd found recently to the surface.

"We're here to co-operate Harris. I just don't understand why you need this from him. Why can't you use the recorded statement that Johnson got from him on Saturday?" Bobby was going to make this guy explain it to him. He didn't like what he was hearing and feeling from Harris, and if the man couldn't give him a good enough reason then he was going to stop this shit real quick. "I was told you wanted to ask a few questions, not get a whole new statement from him."

"I just told you, I need it written and signed." Harris let his voice snap in response.

"Bullshit." Bobby shook his head. "If it needed to be written down Johnson would have had him write it down. Or Kirkpatrick would have had him write it down. He never said anything about needing it in writing." He didn't trust the man's word. He needed to hear some logical reasoning.

"We wanted to give him a few days, let things settle down. Like I said before, sometimes memories change, or new memories surface after some time has passed. We need this written statement to go with his recorded statement." Harris drew in a deep breath as if he were trying to keep some kind of control over himself.

Bobby looked at Craig. "You think you can write it all down?" He asked the boy. He still didn't feel comfortable with it, but he would feel Craig out. If the kid was okay with it, then there may not be a problem.

"There is no choice here; he's going to have to give this statement." Harris nearly spat the words in Bobby's direction, not giving Craig a chance to respond to the question himself. "Any discrepancies will warrant further questioning, so we will see where we stand once the statement has been submitted. Please, hand him that clipboard so we can get this over with?" His impatience was showing now, and it drove through Bobby like a hot knife. Hell, no, the asshole was not trying to accuse the kid of lying before, was he?

"Not if you're going to treat him like shit. You want to get official with all of this? I can insist that my lawyer is here with him for this. In fact, maybe that's exactly what I should do." Bobby took a quick look at Craig and could see confusion building behind the boy's eyes, he was sure of it. He was not going to let this son of a bitch screw around with his brother's head.

"Mr. Mercer, I need this written statement from him. If you want to call your lawyer down here for that, then by all means, do." Harris sat back in his chair, his arms folded at his chest, mirroring Bobby's early position. "It isn't going to change what we need or get from him in the long run. It's only delaying the inevitable."

"I think I'll do just that." Bobby stood and tossed the clipboard onto the pile of files and papers covering the desk. He wasn't about to tell the man that Robert Bradford had already advised that the questioning wasn't necessary, and that Bobby could refuse to allow it without council present.

None of the questioning his brothers had been going through had been like this. No one had tried to insinuate any of them were guilty of anything, despite the fact that all four brothers knew deep down that they had set out Saturday morning to find and kill Macks. The reason they were still answering questions, still giving statements, was so it could be used to bring charges against Jordan, and clear the Mercer brothers, all of them, from any wrong doing so that the insurance companies they were battling would pay out what was owed to them.

They all needed their cars, and they all needed to get Jeremiah's business back on track. This whole thing with Craig wasn't relevant to any of that, and Bobby didn't like the way Harris was talking and acting with the kid, or with him. He had a feeling about this Federal Agent. He wasn't like Kirkpatrick; he was trying to dig for shit that wasn't there. He was trying to find some way to blame the Mercers for Adam Macks' actions, and he didn't' understand why. Why the hell would the man try to turn this into some kind of mission against his family?

Okay, maybe he was over reacting; maybe he was seeing something that wasn't there. His instincts might have been a little off. He just couldn't shake the feeling that this guy was out to cause more trouble for the Mercers and he was sick and tired of fighting for every fucking chance to get their lives back on track. What the hell else did they have to give up? They had already lost a mother, and almost lost Jack. Jeremiah and Angel had nearly been blown to smithereens and charbroiled on top of it. Craig, hell, he didn't want to think about what the kid had been forced to deal with. The bullshit seemed to keep coming and Bobby was sick of it.

Harris stood as well. "Mr. Mercer, if that's the way you want to do this, then fine. I thought we could get this out of the way before Kirkpatrick returned, but if you don't wish to co-operate, then we can do it the hard way." His voice was stiff.

"Kirkpatrick is returning? Good, I want him to be the one to do this then." Bobby nodded his head. "I'll call my lawyer as soon as I get home, and he can contact you. The arrangements can be made through him. Don't bother calling me." Bobby let his own frustration show in his words. He wasn't going to put up with this guy trying to push him or his family around.

The men stared at each other for a long moment before Bobby held his hand out in Craig's direction. "Come on Craig, let's go." He didn't bother to look down at the boy.

Craig didn't move.

"Come on Craig, move your ass." Bobby's frustration with Harris was still obvious in his voice.

"Bobby, why can't I just write down my statement?" Craig asked the question quietly.

Bobby turned and looked at the kid. Shit, what the hell was wrong with him? Wasn't he listening to anything he'd just said to the asshole agent in front of them?

"It's not like it's changed since Saturday, and I can write it down pretty quick. It won't take long." Craig muttered.

Bobby wanted to reach out and smack the back of that fourteen year old head. Fuck this shit. "Move your ass, or I'll carry you out of here myself." His voice came out quiet, but he made sure the threat was indisputable. No, he wouldn't smack him, but he wasn't beyond picking the kid up and carrying him out of there.

Craig hesitated for a long moment, long enough that for a split second Bobby thought he was going to have to carry through with his threat. When the kid did finally stand Bobby couldn't hold back and snatched his arm up in a firm grip. He pulled Craig past Harris, towards the hall, and back to where Johnson's desk was located. "Don't you ever question me with shit like that again, you got that?"

It was the first time since Saturday that Bobby felt pissed at the kid. It was the first time he hadn't opted to treat the kid as if he might break, and it felt good. It felt better than he thought it would. After everything that had happened he'd been dealing with the kid as if he'd fall apart over any little thing. Hell, he had done exactly that in the past. He'd fallen into an emotional pit before, and his brothers had been forced to dive in after him.

"But I can write it down; it's not a big deal." Craig muttered.

"I said no. You got that? You don't question me Craig. This is serious shit and I don't like the way Harris wants to deal with us. Not just you; he treats our whole family like we're nothing but a bunch of thugs and I ain't gonna let him do it. He can go through Robert, and when the time comes, we'll deal with Kirkpatrick not that asshole." Bobby didn't loosen up his hold on the boy. He didn't like the idea that the boy was questioning his judgment. Maybe he was over reacting, but he only had his instincts to go by, and his instincts were usually pretty damn good.

Bobby didn't let go of the boy until they reached Johnson's desk. The new detective looked up over some papers he was holding in his hand. He sighed heavily and slowly lowered the neat print that was in front of his face to reveal the grim expression they had been hiding. "Well, either that went very well and you are done already, or there is a problem." He spoke quietly, looking from the teenager in Bobby's grips back to the man hovering over him.

"That asshole don't want to explain shit to me, he wants Craig to write his statement down, and he has the statement on tape. He acted like he thought Craig was lying or something. He said sometimes memories change after a little time, and any 'discrepancies' would warrant more questions. He's accusing Craig of lying, that's what he's doing; and he's trying to dig for shit that ain't there." Bobby stated the facts as he seen them. Sure, Harris hadn't said he thought Craig had been lying, but he'd hinted to thinking it was so.

Johnson sighed again and reached up with his right hand to rub his temple with slow, calculated circles. "He does need the statement in writing Bobby, it's his job." He stated calmly.

"Craig ain't writing shit down without a lawyer present. Now if the man had asked questions, it might have been different, but he insinuated Craig's statement was gonna be different than what he gave you Saturday." Bobby argued. He let go of the boy's arm and barely noticed the teen reached up to rub where he'd been holding onto him. "He ain't gonna go through that shit Johnson, I won't have it. He told the fuckin' truth and I won't have anyone accuse him of lying. If they want a written statement it's gonna be done with my lawyer in the room."

Johnson looked at some officers walking past the nearby doorway. "Bobby, please settle down, will ya? You're putting on quite a show for the uniforms. You are well within your rights to want a lawyer present, that's not a problem" He sat up in his chair and motioned to two metal chairs positioned next to the wall, close enough to his desk that they could talk comfortably.

Bobby moved towards the chair, but hesitated when he looked at Craig. "Hey, why don't you go get something out of the machine?" He dug into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of change. "Stay out there until I come for you, okay? I need to talk to detective Johnson." He held the coins out to the teen and waited until he'd left the immediate area before taking his seat on the other side of Johnson's desk. He strained his neck to make sure he could see Craig from his position before he looked at the cop.

Johnson looked frustrated. "Now why did you send him out of here if you are going to eyeball him the entire time?" He asked while glancing out the door himself as if he were checking on the teen.

Bobby watched Craig sit on a bench in the hall way before turning back to Johnson. He shook his head. "I need to find out if Harris really needs this shit like he claims. You can confirm it with Kirkpatrick, can't you?" He asked quickly. "I don't believe a word Harris said to me in there, I don't like that son of a bitch, and I don't trust a word that comes out of his mouth." He leaned up in his seat.

Johnson let out a groan. "Bobby Mercer, I shouldn't be talking to you about this, especially not here. You know everyone on this force knows your name. There ain't one cop in this building that don't know your record, or know what the hell you are capable of. You don't think that kind of reputation managed to get back to the Feds?" His voice changed and turned very quiet. "If Harris is looking for ammunition, it ain't to take down a fourteen year old kid, Bobby. You know that. If he's after anything, it's you and your brothers, but not Craig." He held a finger up and pointed it at Bobby. "We ended up with a dead cop, another dead body lying in the street, Patrick Dennis, you remember him? You'd do better to co-operate with him and let him find only what is there for him to find, and that is the truth concerning this case. If he starts digging, he might find something more. He's questioned how you boys managed to be part of three deaths at two different locations. He's questioning everything about Macks' shooting. He's obsessed over all of the statements and evidence. You're right; he's digging hard for something. He's questioned everything concerning this case; don't give him more to question." He was giving Bobby a warning; that much was clear. "You want to get your lawyer in here, fine; you do that, but let the FBI get that written statement from Craig. Don't refuse to give him what can get him off your ass. Got it?"

Bobby felt instant confusion. "What the hell is he looking for? We didn't do anything wrong here, we were fighting for our lives; everything we did was in self defense. Hell, we don't even know if Jack's shot was what killed Macks; but you were there, you know Macks had a gun aimed at me. Jack saved my life; he probably saved all of us."

He would have kept talking but Johnson held his hand up to silence him. "Bobby I did not witness the shooting, or what lead up to Macks with a bullet in him. That is all testimony from you and your brothers."

"And Johnny," Bobby reminded.

"Yes, Johnny Giovanni's testimony backed up yours, but that doesn't mean Harris can't find holes in it." Johnson managed to lower his voice even further. "You boys are telling the truth here; don't let Harris fuck this up by finding some reason to pursue the stupid ideas that are burning at his brain cells. Come on, just do the smart thing, let him get what he needs so he can prove himself wrong."

Bobby could feel his senses tingling. Something more was up, he could feel it. "Johnson, you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" He could see a flash of something in Johnson's eyes as soon as he asked the question. "You ain't telling me everything." He nodded his head. "What the hell, Johnson, I trusted you and you're gonna throw us to the fucking wolves?" He felt his anger building. He should have known better than to trust a cop. If Johnson was screwing him over that meant Green was a part of it too, and he was going to be paying the price for allowing himself to fall into the trap that had been set for him by a so-called friend. He wanted to put a hole in the wall at that moment. He stood, setting his sights on the doorway. He was going to go find his brothers, all of them, and they were getting the hell out of there. Fuck the cops. Fuck the Feds, fuck them all.

Johnson shook his head quickly. "No, Bobby, it's not like that." He stood as well, matching Bobby's motion and blocking his path to the door. "I can't talk about it here. You call Green. You talk to him. He wanted to tell you about it from the start but I thought we could get by without saying anything. You're telling the truth, so there isn't anything to worry about, you just have to let Harris get what he needs to he can get the hell out of town." He still kept his voice quiet.

"Get out of my way." Bobby spoke the words through clenched teeth. He didn't want to hear what the cop in front of him had to say.

"Call Green, promise me."Johnson didn't move.

Bobby felt the side of his mouth twitch as he started the Detective down. He held in the words he wanted to shout at the man.

Johnson looked defeated after a long second and stepped to the side, allowing Bobby to walk past him.

Bobby didn't look back as he grabbed hold of Craig's arm and pulled him from the bench, barely slowing to do so. He heard the kid asking him what was wrong, but it didn't actually register. His brain was operating on that instinct he'd doubted just a short time before. He was gonna call Green alright, and he was gonna get some fucking answers.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to all for reading and special thanks to those of you who reviewed the last chapter, I appreciate them all :)

Still do not own, and still make no money.

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**Chapter 4: New Monster**

If he'd been given the choice he would have done what the FBI agent, Harris, had wanted. He would have written down the same statement he had given on Saturday when he'd talked to Johnson. It would have been much easier than trying to talk. He hadn't had that choice though. Bobby had gone off on one of his tantrums and ruined everything. That meant that he was going to have to come back later, and go through it again, only the next time there was more of chance of questions that he didn't want to answer.

Damn Bobby. Damn his temper and his stupid logic. He was worried about something that Craig couldn't see. Harris wasn't the nicest person around, but if Bobby had let him write his statement down it would have been over and done with and he wouldn't have to worry about what was going to happen next. Now he was going to have come back again, and probably talk, and answer questions that he didn't want to answer. That was all his mind could digest out of the entire situation. He was going to have to deal with more crap now because Bobby couldn't just shut the hell up and let him write a stupid paragraph down on the paper.

Bobby dragged him down the hall, yelling at uniformed officers to get his brothers, demanding that any talks that were taking place be stopped right then and there. He seemed as if he were on some kind of a mission. It all felt odd to the boy, since Bobby had already been to the police station several times and until now had been happy to talk to cops. Sure it had seemed odd before, knowing Bobby was developing a some kind of comfort with the law enforcement community, but Craig didn't understand why he had to choose now, of all times to revert back to his mistrust of the uniform. His sudden need to get out of there and put distance between himself and the law didn't make sense.

The rest of the Mercers emerged from closed doors, or around corners as officers summoned them from their own private sessions with detectives, and Bobby seemed to calm down, a little. He still hadn't released his hold on Craig and the teen was ready to make an attempt to pull free. Being held onto as if he were some small child was humiliating. He had spent the past few days avoiding being touched and it seemed Bobby's hand or arm had been in contact with him for the most of their visit in the precinct house. The grip on his arm didn't hurt, but he felt his skin crawl under it. He wanted his safe distance.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jeremiah stopped next to Bobby, pulling his coat on with a casual motion. "I could hear you behind two closed doors, you know that?"

"We're getting out of here and no one is talking to the cops without Robert bein' here from now on." Bobby gave Craig a small tug to draw him a few inches closer to him as Angel and Jack came to a stop in front of them.

"But, none of this is our actual statement. I mean, we already gave them that." Jack spoke quietly; the expression on his face mirrored the confusion Craig felt inside. "We're just filling in some cracks here."

"Yeah, you'd know all about filling in cracks, wouldn't you, Cracker Jack?" Bobby's voice didn't have the cheerful sound it usually held when he started with the jokes; instead it felt hard on the air around them. "Look, I made a mistake; I let us fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book. We've come down here a few times, telling our side of the fucking story, thinking it would help speed shit up, and all they're trying to do is find a way to nail us for something. No more talking to any of them unless we've got our lawyer with us." His tone seemed to turn icy as he spoke. He turned and started walking towards the exit, pulling Craig along with him.

"Bullshit, Bobby, Green wouldn't let them pull that shit." Jeremiah stepped quickly to catch up to Bobby, taking up a stride on the man's left side. "Green and Johnson are both on our side, you know that."

"No, I don't know it. It thought it, and I was wrong." Bobby's jaw was tight. "I should have known better than to trust fucking cops. I've dealt with them long enough to know how the game is played and I still fucked up here." He kept his gaze fixed on the exit door ahead of them, it seemed his steps quickened and Craig had to pick up his own pace to keep up.

"Why don't you try explaining to us exactly what the hell is going on?" Angel took up the space on Craig's right side, and Jack, with his long legs, managed to slide past Jeremiah and step with them, just a few feet ahead.

Craig couldn't understand what had taken place to make Bobby so upset. He tried to replay the brief encounter with Harris in his head to find something that would explain why his brother was reacting so negatively at the moment. Yeah, Harris had been an ass, but Craig still fell back on the fact that he could have written his statement down, much easier than he could have answered questions and Bobby had ruined that chance for him. There was nothing in that meeting that would have propelled Bobby Mercer to drag his entire family out of the police station.

The handful of silver Bobby had given him a short time before jingled in his jeans pocket, reminding him that he'd been sent out of the room while his brother talked to Johnson, and he made the connection. Bobby had been pissed before, but it wasn't until after he'd talked to Johnson that he'd gone beyond pissed and turned defensive. That's what it was, he was on the defense, and it had to be something Johnson said; it had to do with Johnson, not with Harris. It didn't have to do with the statement Harris had said he needed written out, it was the talks his brothers had been having with the police.

"We'll talk when we get to the house." Bobby grunted the words as they broke through the door to the outside. The man's muscles seemed to relax almost instantly once they hit the crisp of the air beyond the exit. His hold on Craig's arm released but he dropped his arm across his shoulders.

Craig started to shrug off the arm, his need for space becoming more than he could take. As soon as he moved out from under the arm it returned, dropped back on his shoulders, and circled his neck. He started to pull away from the hold on him, but the arm locked and he was pulled closer towards his brother. He looked up to find Bobby scowling at him. He was sure the man was about to say something. His eyes seemed to hold a question, and Craig dreaded it. He was relieved when the next few seconds passed in silence. He looked away from Bobby and resisted the urge to make another attempt at pulling free from him.

"So, you're convinced now that Johnson and Green are out to screw us?" Angel spoke once they reached the car.

"No. I didn't say that. I said I screwed up by trusting them." Bobby sounded a little less tense. "I also said we'd talk at home."

"Why don't you explain how you screwed up?" Jeremiah pushed as they reached the car. "Why the hell should we have to wait 'til we get back to the house?"

Bobby watched Jeremiah walk around the car, and finally sighed. "I didn't think about the fact that the FBI is involved. It never occurred to me that they would doubt us, what we've been telling them, because Green and Johnson both know what the hell happened. I figured Kirkpatrick and Harris would come to the same conclusions and we'd be able to put this shit behind us." Bobby muttered. He opened the back door of the Volvo and let Craig climb in. "I was wrong."

Bobby's words seemed to take on a different meaning now. Craig replayed the whole scene with Harris through his mind. The man had wanted the written statement, not a problem, but it was more than the way he'd spoken, it was the words that had passed between him and Bobby. Craig hadn't been paying too much attention to most of them at the time; he'd been more concerned with writing on paper what the man wanted and getting the hell out of there before he started asking a bunch of hard questions that he was sure he couldn't answer. Bobby was worried that Harris didn't believe them. He was worried that Harris was digging for something more and whatever Johnson had said to him while Craig was in the hallway obviously had confirmed his worries.

Craig let his mind wonder while his brothers talked during the drive back to the house. He didn't listen too much to the conversation, only bits and pieces. His brain was stuck on Harris' words about having the written statement and looking for anything that was different in it from his original statement. He remembered the tone in the man's voice, and the look in his eyes. Bobby was right, he was digging for something. But even if he was, if they were all telling the truth, then there wasn't anything for him to find, right? Why was Bobby so pissed?

Apparently the question in his mind wasn't a bad question, because once Bobby had relayed the events to the rest of the Mercers in the car, Jeremiah asked the same question. "We ain't lyin' to them Bobby, so what if Harris is trying to dig for something? Let him dig. We just need to keep telling the truth and let him dig. He ain't gonna find nothin', because there is nothin' to find." He glanced in the mirror at Bobby. "I mean, really, what could he possibly find?"

"Jack shot Macks." Bobby spoke a little louder than he needed to. "It was self defense, on all our parts, but we ain't got no one else to back up our story. It's just us against them, don't you see that Jerr'? Harris is digging for a reason to pin this shit on us. I'm tellin' ya, we are screwed here."

Craig was sandwiched between Bobby and Angel again, and he could see Jack in the front seat, his body seemed to wilt at the sound of Bobby's words.

"Wait a minute, you think they are gonna come after us for this? Shit, Macks started this, he started it. He faked his own death and came after us. The cops all know that. They have the proof, they have his fake I.D. They got the contact lenses and the false teeth. Hell, I have it by a good source that the man did some killing back in Illinois. How the hell can they come back on us with this shit?" Angel spoke up. "It's bullshit Bobby, they can't pin shit on us."

Bobby turned and looked at Angel. "Where the hell do you get your information?" He asked.

"That sweet thing behind the desk in Evidence," Angel grinned and glanced down at Craig. "She is sweet, too." He winked and looked back at Bobby.

"Here we go again. If you do marry Sofi, you realize your days of flirty with all those sweet things are over." Jeremiah spoke from the front.

Angel started defending his actions, and the conversation soon turned into how his talents for getting information out of beautiful women had saved them all in past.

Craig's eyes fell on Jack in the passenger front seat. His head was turned away, obviously looking out the window. He was quiet and the boy wondered if he was listening to anything that was being said. He had shot Adam Macks. After all the years he'd spent avoiding guns he had picked one up, aimed it and fired. He had saved Bobby's life in that moment. He had faced one of his worst fears and done the one thing that no one else had been able to until that moment; he'd gotten rid of the monster for good.

Craig let his own mind fall into his memories about that day. He couldn't remember anything from the right perspective no matter how hard he tried. He felt detached from everything that had happened, as if he hadn't been there, living it, but standing back, observing as everything played out. He couldn't feel the blows that his father had landed on him, or the sensation that had filled him when the man's hands wrapped around his throat. He could picture it all in his head, but couldn't feel anything from that day. The looks on his brother's faces, the sound of the gun shot. The uniforms that had swarmed the cemetery and the buzz of activity that went forever. It was all there, in his head, like a movie he'd watched.

His mind was brought back to the here and now as the car slowed down and made a turn. They were home. Jeremiah parked the car in front of the house. Craig got out after Bobby and headed for the front door. "Hey, genius, you want the key?" Bobby called out.

Craig turned to look at Bobby, who was standing next to the car, with Jeremiah and Angel. Jack was getting out of the car and his pack of cigarettes in his hand, one already hanging from his lips. Bobby tossed him his key ring. "Put them on the counter." He ordered and turned back to look at Jack, who was lighting his cigarette.

Craig hesitated for a moment before turning and walking to the house. They were going to talk, and didn't want him to hear. He was getting used to that. If they'd been in the house he could have strained his ears and tried to listen, but they were going to stay outside and leave him out of it completely. He was tired of the secrets his brothers kept hiding from him. He couldn't help but wonder what else they had kept from him. He had found out about Jack's secret by accident, by overhearing a conversation not meant for him. That was his first clue that his brothers barely included him in what was going on in their family. He was still an outsider, still not a real Mercer, no matter what anyone said. Finding out about Anthony proved that.

The house felt still and quiet when he walked through the door. After hanging his coat up he walked through the foyer to the kitchen and dropped Bobby's keys on the counter. He stepped across the room to the back door and looked out the window of the back door. The ice storm that had hit Saturday had layered everything in ice.

The sky that day had been dreary and dark, a stark contrast to the sky today. The blue above was brilliant; the few clouds looked like puffs of cotton candy stretched out overhead. The sun was shining, reflecting off what little bit of ice remained in the trees and overhangs of nearby roofs. Puddles of melted snow pooled everywhere reflecting the bright surroundings like hundreds of mirrors covering the street and spotting the ground; chunks of yellow and brown popped up in spaces in the yards as the snow cleared away. The air was still crisp and cold, but the day looked bright and new and he thought he could feel a promise of some kind drifting past with the clouds. It seemed like a whole different world from the one he'd lived in on Saturday. So much had changed.

His mind fell on the large white board at the police station, and the notes scrawled out in red marker under Anthony's name. His brothers had kept another secret from him. His friend was dead. He had died the same night Adam Macks had sent men with guns to Maria's apartment. It was another secret, another lie, another fact that his brothers would never have shared if he hadn't found out about it himself. If he had the capability of feeling anything at that moment he was sure he would have been pissed. He wanted to feel pissed. He had been hiding in the safety of the numbness that had taken over him, but he did wish he could feel something about Anthony, or the secret that his death had been kept from him.

He didn't want to live the rest of his life wondering about what lies his brothers were telling him, or what secrets they were keeping from him. It was his life too. What was going on involved him just as much as his brothers, and he deserved to know what was going on. He had that right, he'd earned it. He'd lived through the past month and everything that had happened, and he deserved to be included in the discussion taking place out in front of the house.

He pulled the door open and stepped out. The back steps had been littered with rock salt days earlier, leaving them coated in chunks of partially melted ice, but the sun had melted that ice away, leaving them wet, with salt residue floating around the edges.

His mind watched as his body moved mechanically. He followed his legs through the thinning snow in the grass, around the corner of the house to his left. The air felt cooler in the shade of the neighbor's house; the snow and ice was still thick from the lack of sun to melt it. His feet moved carefully over the layer of ice, slipping every so often, and his arms started to shiver under his sweatshirt. He stayed against the wall as he moved towards the street, using it for support as much as a way to cover is approach.

His brothers were still out front, gathered around Jeremiah's car. He could hear their voices as he reached the corner where the front porch butted up to the house. He felt his stomach tighten up on him and knew that he should follow the instincts that were screaming at his nerves, telling him to turn around and go back in the house. Instead he moved on. He could feel his pulse quicken and his face grew warm as his nerves prickled about inside of him with short bursts of electrical charged energy.

It wouldn't go over very well with any of his brothers if he was caught sneaking around the side of the house to overhear their private conversation. He knew Bobby would throw a fit, and he'd be asked to explain his actions. He would have to endure a lot of yelling, and knowing Bobby he'd be grounded, not that he was free to do what he wanted at the moment anyway. He didn't care. He didn't care if he got caught, but being there at the moment seemed to spark something inside of him and he liked it. He inched forward to the outer corner of the front porch and ducked down behind the left-over pile of bricks that had never been cleared out of the yard.

"Well, if Johnson said to call Green, they why don't we call Green?" Jeremiah's voice drifted on the wind, and Craig was surprised at how easily he could hear the words.

"I don't think I trust Green right now. Do you?" Bobby shot back at Jeremiah.

"Yes, Bobby, I do. Johnson was trying to warn us, don't you see that? Green can fill us in on what's going on." Jeremiah's voice held reason, as usual.

Bobby on the other hand held his own version of logic. "They fuckin' screwed us and put us out there for the Feds to eat us alive, Jerr', don't you see that? Don't you see the game they're playin'? I do. I've seen it before. They played us and set us up so the Feds could stake a claim on us. We ain't gonna get out of this by co-operating. Shit, that's how they lured us in." His voice was louder. "Green set us up. He fucked us over to make himself look good. He had Johnson to help him."

"Green wouldn't do that." Jack cried out. "Hell, Bobby, I shot a man, I would be in jail right now if that's what they were doing."

"They are trying to get you there Jack. That's what I'm trying to tell you. They are trying to get us all behind bars but they will start with you. Harris is out to nail us. They got our records staring them in the face and they are determined to make us pay for shit that don't have anything to do with now." Bobby sounded frustrated and almost defeated, at least to the teenager.

Craig dared a peek around the bricks that were hiding him. He could see Bobby pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. Jeremiah was standing in the yard with his back to the house. Both Angel and Jack were leaning against the front end of the car, their eyes following the eldest Mercer as he moved up and down the walk with quick steps.

Smoke emptied from Jack's mouth and he pulled his hand up to grab another lungful of nicotine from the cigarette nestled between his fingers. He looked scared and no matter how many cigarettes he smoked the fear wasn't going to leave him, Craig knew that. He could hear the worry in Bobby's voice, and the disbelief in Jeremiah's. He thought he should be feeling something too, but he didn't. He listened as Angel spoke.

"We need to talk to Green. We need to hear what he has to say Bobby." Angel sounded calm, and almost detached, the way Craig felt. "Let's at least hear his side of it. We owe him that much, don't you think?"

"We don't owe him shit." Bobby nearly yelled the words. He stopped pacing at a point where he could see all three of his brothers. "If he set us up we don't owe him a fucking thing. I fell into that trap once; I won't fall into it again. He might have come through for us a few times, but we gave him control and we know better. We all know better. Shit, I know better."

"Fine, I'll call Green." Jeremiah's arms swung up from both sides. "You call Robert Bradford and talk to him. Tell him what the hell is goin' on."

"You ain't callin' Green." Bobby swung around to look at Jeremiah. His eyes flicked in Craig's direction. Craig felt his breath catch in his chest as he pulled back quickly and moved back up the side of the house at as close to a run as he could manage on the ice. He was sure Bobby had seen him. He rounded the corner into the back yard, picked up his speed as he moved across the grass, and moved up the back steps without slowing down. He was acting on instinct. He didn't feel afraid, or worried about getting caught, he just had to be sure his brothers didn't know he was sneaking around and listening into conversations they were trying to keep from him or they would keep their guard up and he'd never have a chance to hear anything.

He pushed the back door closed and listened to the house, waiting for the sounds of his brothers coming through the front door, Bobby yelling at him for being outside, peaking around corners to hear words not meant for him. The same silence met him as before. He stood there for a moment, leaning back against the door.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, beating hard and fast, as if it was trying to break free. He reached up with his hand and let it rest over his heart so that he could feel the thumping. It wasn't fear that he felt. His brain tingled as he tried to figure out what it was. It was the first thing he'd actually felt since Saturday. The first real sense that he was alive and it felt better than he thought it should.

A smile played across his face as realization hit him. It was a rush. The chance that he'd taken, sneaking around the house to hear a conversation that his brothers would never hold in front of him, had brought on an adrenaline rush that seemed to spark something inside of him. He liked it. He liked feeling something, finally. He had felt comfortable in his cocoon of nothing, but this was good. It made him feel alive.

Craig pulled in a deep breath and let the sensation soak in as deeply as it could before it started to subside. The sound of the front door never came. He stepped to the sink and snatched the same glass off of the counter that he'd used earlier. He filled it with water and moved slowly through the dining room to stand in the living room. He looked out the window and watched his brothers out front, still talking. Apparently Bobby hadn't seen him. He wished he had stayed outside for a little longer, to hear what else was being said, but he knew the chance of being caught was too great if he went back now.

He couldn't believe that Green had set them up. It just didn't seem possible, not after everything he'd done to help them. The problem was Harris and the FBI. His brothers had been out to stop his father that day, but they hadn't been given a choice. Adam was coming after them, and he never would have stopped. How could the FBI turn any of that around on his brothers? It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right.

Craig stepped around the coffee table and sat down on the couch. He took one last drink from his water before setting the glass on the coffee table. His heart was no longer beating hard and rapid, it had calmed down and the feelings that had filled him for that short moment were gone. The rush was over, giving way to something else, something that didn't feel so good.

The teen shifted his gaze down to his hands and stared at the partially healed bruises and tiny nicks he'd acquired in his struggle with his father in front of Evelyn Mercer's grave. He let his mind drift back to that day in the cemetery, and the surprise that had overwhelmed him when he'd realized Jack had shot his father. He had been numb since that moment. No feelings, no emotions, absolutely nothing until the rush of sneaking out of the house, and that seemed to have given way to something else now.

The 'what if' game started to play out in his mind for the first time in days; what if Harris tried to put his brothers in jail? What if he was taken away from them? What if he lost his home and his family? What if Adam had really won in the end? The fear of being separated from the only family he'd ever known was supposed to have died with the monster. But it seemed a new monster was moving in to terrorize him now, the FBI.


	5. Chapter 5

I was going to try to get this up earlier today, but here it is :) Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!

Still don't own, still make no money.

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**Chapter 5: Giving Up?**

Jack jabbed the cigarette into his mouth and drew a heavy lungful of smoke from it. "You ain't callin' Green." Bobby spoke with finality to his voice as he turned to face Jerry straight on. Jeremiah was determined he was going to call Green. Bobby was determined he was going to tell Jeremiah what the hell he could and couldn't do. Hell, this could get interesting.

Jerry was right, as far as Jack could see. Hell, he wanted to know what Green had to say about his future, no matter what the hell Bobby thought. His ass was on the block here, not Bobby's. He was the one who shot Macks. Shit, he could see it now, sitting in prison for the rest of his life. He was always the one who ended up screwed over. Nothing ever worked out the way it was supposed to. It was the story of his life.

Prison, he couldn't do that. He couldn't handle being in prison. County lock up was bad enough, he would never make it one day in prison, and he knew that. He would run if he had to, but he damn sure wasn't going to prison.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he shifted his gaze towards it. Craig pulled back from peeking around the skid full of bricks still sitting in the front yard. The snow was mostly melted off the red clay, but there enough still splotching the pile that the contrast of Craig's brown hair was easy to make out. The kid had been listening in on them.

Jack cleared his throat loudly and stepped quickly through the snow that still covered most of the front yard. He glanced back to find all three of his brothers giving him confused looks. He reached the bricks and looked at the icy walkway between the two houses just in time to see the back of Craig's sweatshirt rounding the corner at the other end. He turned to look back, and was surprised to find Bobby right behind him, his gaze stuck on the form disappearing around the opposite corner.

"That sneaky little shit." Bobby muttered under his breath and turned to walk to the front door. "I will beat his ass." Puffs of steam escaped his lips with each word.

Jack reached out and grabbed Bobby's arm. "You need to calm down." He spoke quickly. "You can't talk to him if you're that pissed." He was surprised Bobby pulled to a halt so easily.

"What the fuck does he think he's doin'?" Bobby jerked his arm free of Jack's hold easily. He turned and walked back towards the sidewalk.

"What? Craig?" Angel had pulled himself off the car, apparently alarmed by the sudden activity from Jack and Bobby.

"Yeah, Craig," Bobby stepped past Angel and slammed both hands down on the hood of Jeremiah's Volvo.

Jack followed in Bobby's direction. "He's just curious, that's all." He pulled the cigarette up for another draw, but it had been smoked down to the butt. He gave the filter a flip into the yard and pulled his pack out of his coat pocket so that he could get another one. "He wants to know what's going on, man, give him a break." He could understand how it might be difficult for the kid, always being left out. "You need to let him listen. He needs to know what you decide." He came to a stop next to Jeremiah, his cigarette hanging from his lips while he dug for his lighter. Where the hell did he put it?

"Bullshit." Bobby turned and looked at Jack. "He ain't gotta know shit. He'll start thinking the worst is gonna happen, and I don't want him to worry about it, not right now. He's been doin' okay the past couple a days. I don't want to ruin that by letting him fill his head with stupid shit that ain't happened yet."

Jack finally found his lighter in his jeans pocket. He pulled it out and flicked it a few times before getting the flame. He lit the cigarette and sucked hard on it, wanting, no, needing to feel the burn of the smoke in the back of his throat. "That's a line of bull. He ain't been okay. He's hiding from the whole fucking thing, just like he always does, and you're letting him because it's easier." He finally choked out the words as he exhaled the smoke.

"He already knows what's going on Bobby, hell; it would have been hard for him to not hear shit the entire drive home." Angel laughed, but it sounded forced. "Jackie's right. Aren't you the least bit worried about him? Because you need to be, and you need to deal with him, we've all been letting it go and that ain't right." He turned to look at Bobby. "The kid ain't doin' shit right now and you ain't been paying attention to that."

Bobby frowned and stared at Angel for a long moment, looking confused. "What the hell does that mean?" He asked. "He's been doin' okay, hell, he's doin' his schoolwork without me having to say shit to him about it. He's not having nightmares, he's not arguin' about eating, and he sure as hell didn't freak out on us when he found out about havin' to go to the police station." He flashed an irritated glare in Jeremiah's direction. "Since that sick fucker died, the kid's been great."

"Great?" Angel cried out. "What the hell is wrong with you, man? You think he's doin' his ABC's and 123's? Bobby, have you seen him writing shit down? Cause, the only thing I've seen is him staring at a book for three straight days. He might change the book every once in a while, but I ain't seen him doing shit with it."

"You ain't been doin' all that great yourself Bobby." Jack muttered. He looked down at the lighter still his hand and flicked at it a few times while his mind replayed almost every conversation he'd had with Bobby over the past few days, all of them in fast forward. They all had been focused on the cops and the scheduled 'talks' they all had with them. His oldest brother had insisted on them all going over their statements together, to make sure they all matched. He'd seemed paranoid about any discrepancies. "You've been scared about the cops the whole time, haven't you?" He felt his own frown deepen. "Shit, Bobby, you've been looking for a reason not to trust the cops, haven't you?" He finally shoved the lighter back into his pocket and looked at Bobby.

Bobby let out a heavy laugh; it didn't sound the least bit cheerful. "Well Jack, we were all involved in a lot of shit over the weekend. You think the cops are just gonna wash their hands of the whole mess and let us walk away free and clear? They want their asses covered. If they have to use us to get that, then they are gonna use us. That means starting with you. You are the one who fired the fucking gun." Bobby's voice went quiet. "And I'll be damned if I'm gonna see you end up behind bars because of me, Jack. You ain't gonna end up there because you saved my ass, I ain't gonna let it happen." He closed his eyes and let his head tilt back, as if he were looking up at the sky. "Nothing has been right since Saturday, since all that shit played out. Nothing has felt right, or looked right, or sounded right."

Silence fell around them. "I'm calling Green, Bobby. Hell, I might just stop by the hospital. It's better to look him in the eyes when I ask him the hard questions, ain't it? At least that's what you always say." Jeremiah finally spoke, his voice calm and quiet. "I still don't think Green would have set us up for shit, man, I just don't see it from him. He ain't like that. He'd be opening himself up for all the shit he's done to help us out. Think about it."

Bobby's head dropped back down and he focused on Jeremiah. Jack recognized the tired look behind his brother's eyes, and he wanted to kick himself for not realizing sooner just how worried his brother had been the past few days. He'd been stupid enough to think the shit was over, and now it was becoming obvious that it was just hitting the fan.

"Okay, Jerr', you talk to Green. You make sure he knows I'm pissed and if I don't like what the fuck he says, then we're cutting all co-operation with him." Bobby sounded as if he had been drained of all his fight, and that worried Jack more than anything.

If Jack had been worried before, now he was just plain scared. Hell, if Bobby didn't have any fight left in him, where did that leave the rest of them? He'd never seen that look on his brother's face. Bobby Mercer looked defeated, and that scared Jack even more. Fear, he was sick of it. He'd lived with it most of his life, and to see it etched so deep into Bobby's features right now was just plain wrong. He sucked on the cigarette again and felt his teeth grind together. "Well, shit Bobby, why don't you just give up?" He heard himself say it before he realized he was thinking it. "Just give up on all of us."

Bobby's head slowly turned until he was looking at Jack. "What the fuck did you just say?" The tired look seemed to give way to the familiar 'pissed' face Bobby was so well known for. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you've already given up on Craig, you ain't doin' shit about him. Why the hell you even bothering to waste your time on worrying about any of us?" Jack couldn't stop the fear twisting in his gut. It wasn't that he wanted to piss Bobby off, but his mind was picturing his future wardrobe; bright orange jumpsuit. What the hell was he going to do if he was arrested for killing Adam Macks? How was it possible that God could let him live through being shot in front of his own home, only to end up going to prison for killing a sick fucker like Macks?

He'd never had a deep, soul driven belief in God. He'd never had much faith in a god that let little kids suffer, and gave sick, demented assholes free run over defenseless children who couldn't defend themselves. He'd prayed to God when he was very little, and it had never gotten him anywhere. But then he found Evelyn Mercer, his mother, and she had told him about a God that was both loving and caring, and answered prayers just at the right time. "Just think about it Jack. He answered your prayers at the perfect time, he brought you to me." Her words echoed in his head now.

He had fallen for it then. He'd let himself dare to hope that he had been saved by God somehow and that Evelyn had been chosen for him. It made him feel special to believe that when he was younger. He wanted to believe in that same God now. But he couldn't help but wonder where that God was, and why he was letting this shit happen to his family.

Bobby's hand came up from his side and smacked the side of Jack's head, hard. "That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard come out of those dick lips." His voice was loud. "Damn Jack; get your head out of who's ever ass it's shoved up right now, and use your fucking brain for a change." He gave Jack a second smack before letting his hand drop. "I ain't givin' up on anything, and neither are you, okay? You ain't goin' to jail; none of us are."

Jack reached up and rubbed at the side of his head. "That hurt."

"Good." Bobby snapped back at him.

Jack could see the glare behind Bobby's eyes soften slightly before the fight seemed to gleam back into them. "Okay." He muttered and gave him a quick nod.

Bobby turned to Jeremiah. "Okay, you talk to Green, and you let me know what the fuck he has to say about all of this. Let's see if he can explain what the hell Johnson couldn't."

* * *

"Lunch is ready!" Jack called from the confines of the kitchen. He had been chosen for the task of preparing the food, while Bobby and Angel sat at the dining room table talking in quiet voices.

Craig was still seated on the couch. He had grabbed his English book and opened it as soon as the sounds of boots hit the front porch twenty minutes earlier. Jeremiah had left, but from what little bits of conversation that he'd been able to hone in on, Jerry was supposed to call Green, despite Bobby's objections to the idea, and then he was going to call them and share whatever news the Detective had for them.

Craig was able to hear very little of the conversation taking place in the dining room now. It hadn't been too bad at first, when his brothers took up their usual seats at the table, but every so often the hushed whispers gave way to almost normal talking that Craig could hear, and Bobby obviously didn't want that to happen. He stepped into the living room and turned on the television, not caring what channel was on. He turned the volume up and then returned to the dining room without saying a word to the teen on the couch. Craig let out a frustrated huff, but didn't look up from his book. He figured he wasn't missing out on much. The conversation was the same as earlier, it hadn't changed. They were going over the same things over and over again as if something would change miraculously at some point, but it never did. He still strained his ears to hear, but all he could make out were names every once in a while, nothing more.

"Hey, did you hear your brother? Lunch is ready. Get your ass in here." Bobby returned to the doorway a few minutes after Jack's announcement. Craig didn't look up from his book. He had managed to get by with eating his meals in the living room, pretty much unsupervised, and he liked it that way. He had been able to get by with tossing most of his food and no one had noticed. He liked having that control over at least on part of his life, and he didn't want to give it up.

"Can I eat in here?" He asked. Since his brothers were holding their secret conversation he was sure Bobby would give in without so much as an argument, just as he had done every other meal over the past few days. He'd probably find it more to his advantage to allow Craig to eat in the living room, again. He would be out of earshot of the talking they had to do and their conversation could continue uninterrupted.

"No, not today, I want you in here." Bobby moved back into the dining room.

Craig didn't move. He eyed the printed page in front of him, but nothing registered. Irritation burned deep in his gut. Why did Bobby have to pick now of all times to change a routine that had become familiar to him? "Why can't I eat in here?" He called out, not daring to look up.

"Because, you've been getting crumbs all over the floor when you eat in there and I ain't cleaning that shit up any more." Angel called out the answer. "Come on; eat in here with your family for a change? We need to start acting normal again. That means we eat together."

"I'll be careful." He did not want to eat. He was not going to force food into his stomach when he knew he'd just get sick on it later. He hadn't been able to eat since Saturday, just barely nibbling on the food enough that his brothers could see it enter his mouth a few times. The rest usually ended up in the trash. No one had paid enough attention to catch it, and he was grateful they all had more important things on their minds.

No one responded to his remark. He turned the page in his book, it helped to give the illusion that he was actually reading.

"Craig! Get your ass in here, I ain't telling you again." Bobby called out.

Craig raised his gaze from the pages in front of him to find Bobby back in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. "Why can't I eat in here?" He questioned again, without moving to empty his hands of the book or to stand.

"Don't make me come over there and drag you to the dining room. No more food in the living room." Bobby's voice was tight; he seemed to be holding in a yell. "We gotta start getting back to normal around here."

"Why? What's wrong with having food in the living room all of a sudden?" Craig couldn't keep his own frustration out of his voice, and he knew as soon as he'd said it that he had made a mistake, but he couldn't give up the one small grasp of control he had on his life.

Bobby moved towards him instantly, his eyes narrow. "Are you arguin' with me? You are going to move your ass to the dining room like I told you to." He reached over the coffee table, smacked the book free from Craig's hands and snatched his wrist with one quick motion.

Craig flinched at the touch while the book hit the couch, bounced and landed on the floor; he started to pull back, but Bobby gave him a jerk upward and he was forced to his feet. "No more arguin', no more sitting there with your nose stuck in a book like you're doin' something that you ain't doin'. No more eating in the living room, and no more pullin' back from me when I touch you." Bobby pulled him around the coffee table and across the floor to the dining room. He pushed him down into the chair that he'd assigned as the teen's seat weeks earlier.

Craig was surprised by the action, and the emotions inside that were stirring around on him, trying to break free from the dormant state they had been lingering in. Anger that had emptied out when he had focused so much of it on Adam Macks had had the chance to grow roots deeper inside than he'd ever imagined over the past few days of numbness. He could feel the heat building in his face, as embarrassment filled him, melding with the anger of being forced into the dining room. Angel was looking at him with a scowl, as if he wanted to say something.

Bobby grabbed hold of the back of the chair and slid it towards the table until Craig's stomach was snuggly resting against it. Jack walked in with a bowl of salad and plate of sandwiches, looking confused by the tension that seemed to have filled the room. Bobby walked around the table towards the kitchen. "We need bowls?" He asked; ignoring the angry stare Craig was boring into him.

"Yeah," Jack muttered, looking at Craig while he set the food in the middle of the table.

"And paper towels." Angel muttered as he stood and walked to the kitchen ahead of Bobby.

Bobby looked down at the boy. "Don't you dare move," He warned him before following Angel.

Jack turned to head back into the kitchen, but stopped and turned back to Craig. "You want some milk?" He asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself back from the table.

"You, want some juice?" Jack made a second attempt.

Craig sat back in the chair and stared at the food on the table. His mind was trying to map out some kind of plan for trying to escape the inevitable.

"He'll drink milk." Bobby called from the kitchen. "You stay in there with him Jack. I don't trust him right now."

The statement drew Craig's attention. He looked up at Jack, and didn't like the smirk that played across his face. "I guess you should stay in the house when you know we're having a private conversation, huh?" He stepped to his chair and pulled it away from the table so that he could sit. "Stupid shit like that makes some people wonder what the hell else you might be up to when we ain't watching. You know?" He reached out and grabbed hold of one of the ham sandwiches. He picked a small chunk of the crust away and started rolling it around between his fingers. He looked at Craig and flashed him a wide grin.

Craig felt his throat tighten. They had seen him outside. Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for reading and let me know what you think :)

Still don't own, still make no money.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Busted**

He watched close while the kid took a bite of the sandwich. Yeah, he could see that look on his face now, that look that Bobby could have sworn had been gone for a few days. It hadn't been gone; it had been hiding in the living room, on the couch. It had been masked by distance and too many other worries on the man's mind. The kid was better than he'd given him credit for, he was a little sneak, and now that led to more questions. How much had he eaten over the past few days? Was he sleeping at all? Bobby had checked on him each night before he went to bed, and while he wasn't positive the kid was asleep each time, he'd appeared to be relaxed, and calm, hadn't he? He didn't have the dark circles under his eyes like before, and he wasn't freaking out every time they turned around, so the pills were doing at least part of their job, right?

Hell, now he had to wonder why the pills weren't working the way the doctor had said they would, and that meant only one thing, the kid wasn't taking them like he should. But Bobby had been watching him, every single time he handed him the pills he'd watched him drink something down, usually milk or juice. But if he was taking them, the kid wouldn't be hiding shit from him. If he was hiding shit, then there was a problem, and he was going to find out here and now if there was a problem. He didn't like wondering about it. He didn't like the kid sneaking around behind his back, and he damn sure didn't like being lied to. He wanted to be able to trust him; hell it would make it easier to be able to trust him. He had too many other problems to deal with; he didn't think he still had this one, it was supposed to be fixed.

Okay, he wasn't so stupid that he thought Craig's problems could be fixed with one bullet, but the source of his problems had been eliminated, and he'd hoped the kid was dealing better. He thought that by now his youngest brother would come to him if he needed to. Hadn't they done all they could to get him through the shit that had rained down on all of them? So why, if he was still having problems, didn't he come to him, or any of his brothers and say something? 'You dumbass, if he ain't takin' his pills then ain't thinking straight himself.' His mind's voice chastised. He shook his head and almost let a tired sigh slip out. If he was taking his pills, but he had been supervising that part of the whole fucking process. 'Yeah, well, you watched him to in the front door earlier too, that didn't stop him from walking out the back.' His mind's voice seemed to hold a mocking tone to it, and he hated the sound of it. Shit, he sounded like an asshole even to him. He had to laugh at that thought.

Jack and Angel both looked at him. "What's so funny?" Angel chewed the words out over a mouth full of salad.

Bobby looked over at Craig. "I just realized that for the past three fucking days, I ain't been focused on everything, that's all." He took a bite of his own salad and shook his head while he chewed and swallowed. "I've been worried about the cops, and the insurance, and the money."

"We all have." Angel looked at him. "Don't kick yourself in the fucking ass over it. I didn't notice shit until last night." He smiled at him. "I watched the little shit sit and stare at one page for almost an hour, and he didn't move, or make a sound the whole time."

Bobby noticed when Craig looked at Angel, his attention drawn to the conversation. His eyes shifted to Bobby, and then he let them fall to take in the meal in front of him. He looked worried, or nervous, Bobby wasn't sure which.

Bobby smiled. "Yeah, but you noticed." He drew in a deep breath and let his fork fall into his salad. He turned his full attention to Craig. "You want to say somethin'?"

Craig looked at him and shook his head slowly.

Bobby wasn't sure if he should push it right now, or wait until after the kid had choked down the meal in front of him. He was gonna make sure he ate, and he was sure it would be easier to get the food down him before he started this conversation, but hell, he just didn't have the patience to wait. He had never been known for his patience. "You sure you ain't got something to say? You look like you got somethin' to say."

Craig shook his head again and picked up his fork. He poked around at the lettuce in the bowl and sucked in a deep breath. Yep, he looked worried.

Bobby sat back in his chair. "You know I seen your ass outside earlier. You got somethin' to say about that?"

He was sure the kid held his breath for a long second before letting it out, but he didn't say a word.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing?" Bobby asked.

Craig didn't look at him. Bobby could see the muscles in his jaw tighten, and was sure he wanted to say something.

There was quiet now, complete silence, no sounds of forks hitting dishes, or glasses clinking against the table. He looked at Jack and Angel; both had their gazed glued to the teen. He couldn't hold in the laugh. "Hell, you both think he's got somethin' to say, don't you?" He forced the wide grin to hold on his face and turned back to Craig. "Answer my question." He kept his voice cheerful. "What did you think you were doing out there?"

"You never said I couldn't come out." Craig muttered quietly.

"You know better than that. If I'd wanted you to hear our private conversation, then we would have come in the house." Bobby could feel his blood quicken as it rushed through his veins to his forehead to start the dull thud of a headache.

"You never said…" Craig started to argue, his eyes still fixed on the sandwich lying on the paper towel in front of him.

"I don't have to say it. You know better. That's something that comes with being treated like a fucking teenager; you don't have to be told everything to know what you need to do." Bobby leaned forward as his voice picked up pitch. He could feel his own tone changing as his patience, what little bit he was holding onto, dissolved. "You know by now when we are having a conversation not meant for you, and you know what to do when have one of those."

"But you never told me you wanted to talk and that I had to stay in the house." Craig still used the same lame defense.

"If you really thought that way at the time, then why did you sneak around the house and hide?" Bobby asked. "Why not just come out the front door where were the whole fucking world could see you?"

"Because…" Craig's words cut off as he was trying to think, still not looking up from his food to look his older brother in the eyes.

"Oh shut up." Bobby smacked the table hard with his hand. The action caused the teen to flinch slightly. The parent part inside of Bobby felt a little guilt at the sight of fear in the boy's eyes, but the big brother that made up the rest of him was satisfied that he had his full attention. "Stop saying stupid shit, it makes you look and sound stupid." He shook his head and sat back in the chair again. His mind was running through the last few days, and he was trying to decide where to start. "Go get the school assignments you've been working so hard on." He held his left arm out and pointed towards the living room behind him. "I want to see them."

Craig didn't look at him, and he didn't get up from the table. His eyes seemed to flicker, and he looked worried.

Bobby smiled after a few long moments. "You've been playin' games with me?" He asked.

Craig's eyes shifted from his food to his hands, and then to the chair at the opposite end of the table, where their mother had once sat for meals.

Bobby reached out and smacked the table, harder than the last time. "You look at me when I'm talking to you." He didn't yell, but he wanted to, God, did he want to. He was starting to think he'd been played by a fourteen year old, and he didn't like it. He was older, he had dealt with lying kids before, hell, he had three other younger brothers, all of whom had lied to him over the years, but none of which had gotten away with it, at least not until they got older, a whole lot older.

Craig slowly shifted his gaze back towards his oldest brother, and Bobby thought for sure he seen a flash of tears behind his eyes, but that was only for an instant. The threat of tears was replaced with something else. The man wasn't sure he could place it at the moment, but if he didn't know better he'd say the kid was pissed.

"Answer my question; have you been playin' games with me?" Bobby kept his hard look on the boy. He wanted the kid to admit it. If he admitted it he could deal with it. All he had to do was tell him what the hell was going through his head and he'd do what he could to make it right, but the lying and sneaking was pissing him off. His brain was trying to figure out how much the kid had been deceiving him. The idea that he would lie to him was the worst. He wanted to understand it and make it right. Somehow he felt he'd failed Craig by missing signs that were right in front of him.

"No." Craig let his eyes meet Bobby's and his voice was steady. Calm seemed to drive him, but there was a slight quiver at the end of that single word that told Bobby he was lying to him now.

"You little liar, you are lyin' to me now." Bobby stood and grabbed the kid's arm. "Stand up and say that to me again." He pulled him to his feet. "I dare you."

Now the tears were back. They pooled in the boy's eyes and that's what Bobby wanted to see. As terrible as that would sound if he said it out loud, it showed him the Craig he thought he knew was still in there somewhere, and this lying, sneaking version of him wasn't normal. It almost gave him a sense of relief. "Now, you want to tell me what the hell has been goin' on behind my back? You got school work to show me?"

"No." Craig muttered, shifting his eyes away from the man, trying to find something to focus on.

Bobby gave him a slight shake to get his attention again. It worked and and brought his gaze back to him. "Why ain't you got any lessons for me to look at? You've been studying, ain't you?" He asked.

Craig swallowed hard and Bobby could see the tension bite down on the young shoulders.

"Have you been doin' your schoolwork Craig?" Bobby let his voice rise slightly. "Because if you haven't been studying, then you got some explaining to do to me, don't you?"

Craig reached up with his free hand and wiped at tears that were slipping free and falling down his cheeks. He opened his mouth and Bobby waited for a moment, not sure if he was going to hear another lie or if the kid was ready to break and be honest with him.

"I can't." Craig barely got the words out.

"You can't what?" Bobby asked. He didn't understand what the kid was trying to say to him.

"I can't do it by myself. No one will help me." Craig looked down again, away from Bobby's hard glare.

"Did you ask?" Angel spoke up from the table.

Craig looked at him. "This morning, you…" He started to respond.

"We were getting ready to leave. You never said a word about needing help before that and you know it. Now don't bullshit us." Angel sat back in his chair, crossing his arms at his chest, almost as if he was daring the kid to contradict him.

"But I did ask you this morning, and you …" Yep, the kid was gonna burry himself deeper, Bobby could see it coming.

"You ain't bothered to ask one single time over the past few days for any help with that shit." Angel stood quickly. "If you're gonna be honest, then admit that. While we're at it, maybe we should mention that not talking to anyone thing that I brought up this morning. You know what I'm talking about? You've been hiding behind those books, avoiding everyone. When we do try to talk to you, you leave the room, don't you, little boy? Hell, you didn't need help with your school work; you weren't trying to do it to start with. It was an act to avoid talking to us."

Craig would have backed away from Angel if Bobby hadn't been holding onto his arm. The man felt him pull slightly.

"Why don't you both just leave him alone?" Jack finally spoke up. "Ganging up on him is not gonna help." He picked up his sandwich and took bite.

"No one is ganging up on him." Angel looked down at Jack for a long moment. He turned back to Craig. "Look, I tried to talk to you this morning, and you got up and left the room, do you remember that?"

Bobby looked at Angel. "Sit down Angel, nibble on your lettuce and let me handle this." He could feel the kid tensing up under his hold. Angel was trying to help, but he was doing the opposite.

Angel sucked in a deep breath and was about to say something more.

"Look, I got this, okay? Let me deal with it." Bobby spoke quickly before Angel had the chance to get another word out. "He's mine." He wasn't sure exactly what he meant when he added that last part. The kid was his. He was his to deal with, he was his responsibility. He was his. He was the parent, not Angel.

Now Bobby could relate to how his mother felt every time he butted his nose into her business with her sons, always thinking he knew better than she did. Hell, he must have given her a lot of headaches, arguing with her over stupid shit about his brothers. He'd tried to be helpful, tried to be the good big brother, but she always told him she had it under control, that she was the parent. Hell, he finally understood that.

Angel dropped back down in his chair. "Well then deal with it and quit playing games here, it's ruining my appetite." He obviously didn't like being shut up like that. Hell, Bobby would have to pull him off to the side later and explain to him how the kid was. He wasn't good with feeling crowded in, that was something he'd learned a long time ago. He was better one on one.

Craig had gotten used to Bobby taking charge, and he had a feeling that was part of the problem. Bobby had fucked up, he'd let the kid drift for a few days and he should have known better. He hadn't meant to, he hadn't realized it, and he was going to have to figure out how to fix it. It was his to fix and no one else.

Bobby turned his attention back to the boy in front of him. The look of desperation was hiding under a false, stony expression. "You remember, just after Ma's funeral, how things were? We hardly talked. We didn't really understand each other then, did we?" He kept his voice quiet. "We understand each other now, don't we? I thought we did anyway. Hell, I understand you a damn sight better now. I know more about you, and I think you know more about me. You know I love the hell out of you, right? You know you can come to me and talk when you need to? You know that?" Bobby asked. He stopped and tried to wrap his brain around what he wanted to say to the kid.

Craig nodded his head, but looked away from him, back down to the floor.

"Then why don't you tell me what you've been doing the past couple of days?" Bobby asked him.

Craig didn't look up at him, or say a word. He looked nervous.

"You scared I'm gonna be pissed?" Bobby asked. "I won't, okay?"

The expression that crossed the boy's face gave Bobby a sick feeling in his gut and he wondered if he'd chosen the wrong words. Maybe he should have told him that he wouldn't get too pissed. He was wondering if he could clarify his meaning when Craig shook his head slowly.

"I've been trying to catch up on school." Craig muttered and kept his eyes from making contact with his older brother. "I can't do it." He flicked a quick peak up to Bobby, but only for a second, before he dropped his eyes back to the floor.

Bobby could see it in the way the kid was holding himself, the tension in his shoulders, the set jaw and frown embedded deep in his eyes. He was lying to him. He was saying what was easiest to say, and that was all. He wasn't telling him the truth.

What the hell was he supposed to do, challenge him or let him hang himself and get busted in the lie? He sucked in a deep breath, trying to remember in his mind what his mother's favorite approach was. Hell, she never used the same method; it depended on the son and the situation. Jeremiah usually 'fessed up pretty quick, but Bobby was one who had to get busted, most of the time before he'd admit it. Angel was too good of a liar, so she would flat out tell him she'd wait him out until she could catch him. Jack was a different story. He couldn't lie, but he tried. He usually went on and on and on with a stupid story until no one could bear to hear it any longer before finally admitting he was lying.

Craig was a lousy liar too, but he wasn't making shit up, he was just denying it, "You sure about that?" Bobby challenged him, hoping he'd crack, just like Jack used to.

Craig nodded his head slowly. "I'm sure. Can I eat now?" He looked as if he were opting for one form of torture over another. He didn't want the food, but it was better than being held there in front of his brother, being questioned.

"There's nothing you need to let me know about right now? Like I said, I'll stay calm. No yelling, I promise." He tried once more. He wanted to be able to trust the kid.

"There's nothing." Craig muttered.

Bobby let go of his arm. "Okay, sit down and eat. No picking at your food. You eat every last bite, and then you can take your pills and lay down for a little while." He kept his voice smooth and calm, despite the fact that he wanted to grab the kid and shake him hard enough to knock the stubbornness loose from him.

Craig finally looked up at him, and for a second Bobby thought he was going to say something, but that second passed and the teen pulled himself back down into his chair.

Bobby watched him the rest of the meal. He ate, but he looked as he was being forced to swallow nails. He wondered why the hell he hadn't seen any of this before. Hell, he should have known better. If the kid wasn't eating, then the medicine wasn't working like it was supposed to. If the pills weren't working, it meant the boy probably wasn't sleeping to great either. He was hiding the same crap he'd been hiding before, only he was getting better at it. That made it worse because if he was getting good at it, he was getting comfortable with it. Bobby knew what it meant to get comfortable with something not healthy. He had got comfortable with a lot of not so healthy things over the years and one bad habit always led to another, more destructive one.

The meal dragged out forever. Bobby watched as Jack and Angel take their time eating. Both seemed to be watching Craig, glancing at Bobby from time to time as if they were waiting for what might happen next. Angel looked irritated, as if he were holding back on some kind of complaint. Hell, Bobby knew he was busting a gut trying not to bitch at him for letting the kid off so easy with the school work questions. Bobby wasn't an idiot, he knew the kid was bullshitting him, but he couldn't very well say that to Angel right there in front of the kid. He knew there was more, but he couldn't say that to Angel either. He had to let the kid trip himself up, catch him in more bullshit and then push him. He was going to put all he could out there in front of him to make certain he tripped, but he couldn't tip his own hand.

Jack on the other hand looked confused; as if he was surprised Bobby had let the kid off the hook so easy. Hell, he almost looked pleased with the way Bobby was dealing with Craig. It was a different tactic than he would have used a month ago, and it was the kind of shit that Jack ate up like cake and ice cream. Sweet and sugary, that's how Jack liked to see shit. What the hell was he gonna do if they put cuffs on him and dragged him off to jail? Hell, the kid was no stranger to jail, but he'd never been faced with charges as serious as murder, and that's what Harris was pushing for, Bobby could feel it deep in his gut, like a hot ball of wax, melting away at his insides.

Shit, he had to stop thinking about all of that, at least for the moment. It had been eating away at his brain cells for days now, and until he heard from Jerry, he had to focus on what was in front of him.

Craig finished his salad and sandwich, finally. Bobby had finished long before and sat there watching. Angel and Jack seemed to have paced themselves to purposely end their meal at the same moment as Craig.

"I'll bring his pills in." Angel stood and started gathering up dished.

Jack followed his lead. "I'll bring you another glass of milk, Craig." He forced a smile, grabbed Craig's empty glass and followed Angel into the kitchen.

Bobby bit at the inside of his mouth while he waited for Jack and Angel to return. Craig had his eyes focused downward, at his hands which he'd let drop to his lap. He looked void of any emotion or thought, and that idea scared Bobby. At least if he'd been pissed about something it would have made it easier to deal with. Bobby could deal with pissed, or scared, but he could see nothing in his little brother at that moment and that was worse than any amount of anger or fear.

Angel and Jack both returned, Jack carrying Craig's milk, and Angel's hands full of pill bottles. Bobby took the bottles and started laying out the assortment of prescribed drugs on the table, a routine that was becoming more than familiar, it had turned into a way of life that Bobby despised. He didn't like the fact that Craig needed so many pills. The doctor had said it wouldn't be forever, but that after the trauma he'd suffered, both emotional and physical, that the pills would help him adjust. Hell, the kid had been pumped full of drugs to make it easier to manipulate his mind warp his reality. The prescriptions were the one thing that helped him keep his head on straight, at least until now.

Okay it was becoming less likely that the kid was really taking the pills the more Bobby thought about it. He didn't understand how he was doing it. Hell, Bobby gave him the pills himself, and made him take them in front of him. He was going to figure it out though, and then the kid wouldn't be able to deny the shit any more.

Bobby used his hand to slide the pills across the table. "Take these and then you can go lie down." He stated the obvious. It was a line he was used to reciting now.

Craig picked the first pill up and put it in his mouth. He took a drink of milk, and repeated the action for each one. Five of them in all went into the mouth, and Craig had the milk drained with the final pill. He set the glass down and stood, ready to walk out of the room. Bobby had seen it this time though. He'd seen the odd movement of the boy's jaw after each pill was slipped in. He fought down the urge to grab hold of him and force his mouth open to look.

"Sit your ass back down, I ain't done with you quite yet." Bobby managed to keep his voice quiet. He tried to force calm into his words, but it came out sounding pathetically satirical.

Craig hesitated for a moment, and then sat in the chair.

Bobby wondered how long the kid could sit there with the pills under his tongue before he finally broke and spit them out.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks to all for reading, and for those of you who reviewed, special thanks :)

Still don't own, still make no money.

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**Chapter 7: Consequences**

Jeremiah slowed his stride and came to a stop as he approached the door of Lieutenant Green's hospital room. He wanted to ask Green what the hell was going on with FBI agent Harris, but he was worried about the answer he was going to get. He wasn't sure he could take bad news. He knew Bobby's instincts were rarely wrong, and his brother had obviously been waiting for the worst to come out of their situation. It was more than just what it would mean for him and his brothers. He wondered how much more his marriage could take of the Mercer family curse that hung over them all. Camille loved him, he knew she did, and he loved her in a way he had never imagined was possible. He loved his daughters too. Hell, he had never comprehended the strength of a parent's love until he became a father. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. When he fell in love with Camille, he had been certain there was nothing else that could dwarf the intensity of that emotion, but fatherhood had proved him wrong.

Tension was thick in his home. Camille tried, she really did, but after everything they had been through, she was ready to get back to a normal life, with a husband who worked every day and brought in a paycheck. A husband who put his wife and daughters first and took care of them, like he used to. Their bank account was dwindling fast, and the insurance company was making it difficult to collect what was due them, both for the car and the warehouse. His girls were suffering the consequences of his actions, and that tore at him more than anything. His girls were his life, and he had to provide for them.

Camille had stood by him through the roughest of times, but he wasn't sure how much more she could endure. She was worried about their money. She had questioned him about the chances of losing the house and having no place to live. He had tried to assure her they were fine, but there was doubt hiding in his soul, and that doubt was hard to hide from her. He'd never been able to hide anything from her. She was scared, and he couldn't lie to himself, he was worried too.

Her parents had been nagging on her a little, he was sure of that. He had worked hard to prove to her parents that he was a good husband and father, and now, for the first time since he'd started dating their daughter, they were questioning her choice in a husband. They were good people, and they had been willing to let his past go, accept him into their family and treat him as one of their own. They had never been judgmental of his mistakes from his younger days, but now they were worried about their daughter. He couldn't blame them, from a parent's perspective; he would have questioned any man who put his daughter through the worry and hard times that he'd put Camille through this past month.

If Green gave him bad news, or confirmed Bobby's suspicions then he didn't know how he was going to deal with it. He would have to tell Camille, of course, but it wasn't going to go over well at all. He hadn't said anything to his brothers, he didn't want them to be aware of his personal problems, and Camille was adamant that he not talk about their business with them. She had no problem with his family, except that they were all too damn close. After so many years of having Jeremiah to herself for the most part, she was having a hard time accepting Bobby's overbearing, dominate attitude. The way he called and expected Jeremiah to drop everything and run over to the house with no notice was not going over well with Camille.

Jeremiah tried to explain to her that Bobby didn't mean it the way is came out when he barked out the orders. He was dealing with a hell of a lot more shit than he should have to, and it was shit that Jerry had to be a part of, whether he liked it or not. Camille knew Jerry needed to be there, and work with his family, but she also expected him to be home with her and taking care of his own business. Jeremiah Mercer was starting to feel a little over extended.

A nurse walked out of the room and smiled at him, "Hello." She kept on walking, but her acknowledgment of him brought him out of his own thoughts. He sighed and stepped through the doorway to Greens room. The man was sitting up in bed hitting buttons on a remote control aimed at the television mounted on the opposite wall, and muttering words under his breath.

"Having some trouble with that thing?" Jeremiah tried to sound cheerful.

"Damn channel won't change, can't get the sound to turn up. Hell, I might as well not even have it on." Green tossed the device onto the table next to his bed and turned his attention to Jeremiah. He drew in a deep breath. "I was expecting a call from one of the Mercers, but I didn't figure on an actual visit from you." He forced a smile. "I'm just glad it's you and not Bobby."

Jeremiah chuckled softly; he felt his nerves grind with the lack of humor he found in Greens words. "How are you doing? Are you healing up good?" He tried not to take in the meaning of Green's words. If the cop in front of him had anything good to say he wouldn't have been so happy to have Jeremiah's company instead of Bobby's.

"I'm good, real good. Doctor is real happy with how quickly I'm healing. I should he going home by the end of the week." Green smiled and met Jeremiah's gaze straight on. "I have already talked to Johnson, so I know why you are here. You gonna ask me the question or not?"

Jeremiah walked over to the window and grabbed hold of the chair there. He took his time dragging it into position next to Green's bed, trying to clear his head all the while. "You look good. You look real good." He spoke quietly.

Green allowed himself a quiet laugh. "I already told you how I was doing Jerry. Why don't you move on to the next subject?" Green reached over to his the table again and pulled the top drawer open with a slow and careful motion. "Why didn't Bobby come himself?"

Jeremiah grinned. "We were worried about how he would pose the question at hand to you." He sat in the chair and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "You already talked to Johnson, so why don't you just spill it and tell me what the hell is going on Wilber?"

Green grimaced at the sound of his first name. "Don't call me that, man, you know I hate that."

"All right, man, I won't say it out loud again, but you gotta tell me what the hell is going on Green. What is Harris looking for?" Jeremiah pushed.

Green pulled a file folder out of the drawer he was reaching into. "I'm going to let you look at this, but you can't let anyone else know you've seen it. Not even Bobby." He held the folder out towards Jeremiah.

Jeremiah hesitated. "I can't promise you that. If there's important shit in there, I'm telling Bobby, you know that." He looked at the file for a long moment before meeting Green's gaze.

"I didn't say not to tell him what you see in it, just don't tell him I showed it to you. If anyone knew I was letting you look at official documents my ass would end up on the chopping block, no matter how many bullet holes I might have in me. I'm not supposed to have it myself; Johnson brought it in for me to review." Green stretched his hand towards Jeremiah just a little further. "Come on, take it."

Jeremiah took the file and sat back in the chair with it. He drew in a deep breath before opening it up to look at the contents. He studied the first paper in front of him and nearly gasped. He looked at Green. "You have got to be shitting me." He reached up with one hand and scrubbed his face hard with it. "Shit. No wonder Harris is out for blood. How the hell can this be right?" He felt defeat hit his gut and wondered how in the hell he was going to explain this one to Bobby, or Camille. Who would have thought that taking out Macks would carry such dire consequences?

* * *

Craig swallowed at the taste starting to build in his mouth. A cross between chalk and what he could only describe as battery acid rose from under his tongue, giving his mouth a dry, wilted feeling that brought on the threat of tears. His stomach had protested against the food he'd had to force down just minutes before, and now it was threatening to empty on him because of the foul taste building in his mouth.

Bobby was sitting back in his chair with his arms folded at his chest, staring at him. He wished his brother would say something. He had no idea why he was keeping him there. On second thought, yes, he did know. Bobby had figured out what he was doing. He had a choice. Either he was going to have to admit right then and there that he was holding his pills in his mouth, to spit them out and hide them under the couch, or flush them, or he could try to wait his brother out.

Angel and Jack had each claimed their seats again, and were watching him with the same interest that Bobby had taken. The teen couldn't help but wonder why the hell they had decided to take notice of what he was doing now, after three days. He had been doing fine, dealing with everything his own way and now that was all going to be ruined. The sweet numbness, the lack of any real feelings, had already started slipping away since that rush he'd experienced after sneaking out of the house to listen in on his brothers' conversation earlier.

He had liked that rush. He'd liked the thrill that had swept through him, but it had sparked the other feelings that he'd been lacking for days. What was building deep inside of him now was not so pleasant. His nerves were wearing raw; his fears of being caught with the pills lodged under his tongue were building. If Bobby figured out he had been spitting out the medication that was supposed to be so good for him, he'd throw a fit and it would lead to more questions. The pills had been the only reason he was sleeping before, and Bobby knew that. They had kept him calm, and a little drowsy, and he had been able to eat without feeling that rock stuck in the middle of his gut. He had done better in so many ways when he was taking the pills, he knew that. Still, he felt as if he had no control when he had been taking them, and he hated that feeling enough to sacrifice the rest just to have it.

Craig wasn't stupid; he knew his brother was already thinking the worst. He had to come up with some way to get out of this mess before Bobby started asking him more questions. He'd sat there for almost a full minute under the silent stares of his brothers. "I have to pee." He spoke carefully, using his tongue as little as possible, but the pills still shifted, and the bitter chemical sensation surfaced around his teeth, grabbing at his taste buds, trying to trigger the gag reflex. It took all the control he had not to spit the pills out into his hand at that moment. He stood quickly, hoping for a quick getaway.

"I didn't say you could get up. Sit your ass back down." Bobby reached out with one arm, grabbing hold of his left wrist before he could step past him.

Craig looked at Bobby and shook his head. "I have to pee." He tried to say the words normally, but the pills seemed to be dissolving with more speed now, and the taste prickeled the inside of his mouth.

Bobby didn't let go of him. He stood slowly. "You sound like you got a mouth full of marbles there kid, why is that?" He kept his eyes fixed on Craig. "Jackie, why don't you get Craig another glass of milk? I think he's gonna need it." He suggested while he grabbed a paper towel that was still lying on the table.

Jack stood, reached across the table and snatched up the empty glass. "He's holding out longer than I thought he would." He muttered as he walked out of the room. "He's as stubborn as you are."

"Why don't you just spit the damn things out?" Angel asked from his chair.

Bobby held his hand out in front of Craig's mouth, cupping the paper towel so that the boy could empty the pills into it. "You give up yet?" He asked. "You spit them out and I'll give you some good ones to take for real this time." His voice was flat, empty of any emotion, the way Craig wished he could feel again. "Or, you are going to have to drink the milk down with those pills already dissolving in there, and that's gonna taste even worse."

Craig felt the tears stinging his eyes harder. He hadn't felt the urge to cry for three days, and it had been liberating. He didn't like feeling like a five year old, unable to control his feelings. The past three days had been a relief, no conflict or fears haunting his every thought. He had been able to think about everything that had happened and analyze it without falling apart inside. He had felt in control of his feelings and for the first time since the night his mother was killed. Swallowing the pills in his mouth would mean giving up his control, and he didn't want to do that.

"Come on Craig, you're caught. You ain't doin' nothing but making yourself suffer. Get them out of there." Bobby was relatively calm at the moment.

Craig instinctively tried to pull away from his brother as a tear slipped free. The hold Bobby had on his wrist tightened. "Don't you fucking try to pull away from me," Bobby warned.

Jack walked in with the glass of milk. He stood next to Bobby, holding the glass in his hand. Craig couldn't miss the look in Jack's eyes. They looked as if they were dancing with laughter, and the corner of his mouth seemed to twitch. "You might as give it up Craig. We already know what you've been up to. Don't you get that yet?"

"Yeah, kid, you're ass is in serious trouble, but if you want to make it worse by drinking those half-dissolved pills down, then that's your choice. You've got 'till the count of three to spit them out. After that you're downing the milk, if I have to pour it into you myself, you got that?" Bobby's voice turned stiff. "One, two…"

Craig squeezed his eyes closed, bent his head down and spit the pills into the paper towel, unable to hold them in his mouth any longer.

"That's disgusting." Jack muttered.

"Yeah, it is." Bobby's voice matched Jack's for the moment.

Craig opened his eyes as Bobby released his wrist and folded the paper towel up before grabbing for the pill bottles. He was tempted to make a run for the stairs. He was sure he could get to the restroom and barricade himself in before anyone caught him. He knew, deep down, how stupid that would be though.

Bobby handed Jack the paper towel and started pouring more pills into his hand from each bottle. "You know, you are going to have to explain this to me. I don't get it. Why the hell would you play this kind of a game with me?" He didn't look at Craig. "Why would you lie to me, and sneak around behind my back? You've been playing a lot of games in fact, haven't you? You ain't been eating, I'm sure of that. Tell me, how long have you been pulling this crap?" He finally looked at Craig.

Craig sniffed at the tears while Bobby held the pills out in front of him. "Bobby, please, I don't like the way they make me feel." He barely managed to get the words out.

"You don't like eating and sleeping like a normal person? You don't like feeling good enough to laugh and feel shit inside?" Bobby shook his head. "Well, how about this, I like seeing you laugh sometimes. I like seeing you act like a normal kid every once in a while. These pills were prescribed for you because you needed them. You want to know why? I'll tell you why. That son of a bitch everyone else calls your father pumped you full of drugs and then screwed around with your head. Those drugs are still working on you, and these pills block them out. They keep you from freaking out Craig. You remember what that was like? I'm surprised you ain't had one of those fits of yours." He spoke calmly.

The words made sense to the boy, but that didn't mean he wanted the pills. He stared at the pills cradled in Bobby's palm, right in front of him.

"Either you take these pills now, or I will make you take them, and you don't want me to do that, do you?" Bobby's sing-song voice sounded threatening.

Craig looked up into his brother's eyes. "Bobby, please?" He tried again, knowing damn good and well that it wasn't going to work.

"I ain't giving you a choice here, and I'm running out of patience with you. I got a big problem with you working me like some kind of an idiot, and it ain't happening again. I won't trust you for shit, for a long time now. I gave you some trust, gave you a little room to deal with shit, and you twisted that around for an opportunity to fucking lie and sneak around. Now, either you take these pills or I'm gonna shove them down your throat myself." He looked as if he wanted to carry out his threat.

Craig reached out to take one of the pills, trying to think of how he could hide it in his hand instead of actually putting it in his mouth, but Bobby pulled his hand back. "No, you open your mouth."

Craig tried to look annoyed. "You aren't serious." He couldn't believe Bobby was going to really give him the pills this way.

"Damn right I'm serious. I just told you I ain't gonna trust you for shit for a very long time. Now open your mouth." Bobby's voice still held the threat.

Craig knew there was going to be no hope of getting out of this now; he opened his mouth and let Bobby pop one of the pills in. He took the milk from Jack and downed the pill. Bobby picked up the next pill and the process was repeated until his palm was empty and Craig had taken all of the medication. Bobby made him open his mouth after the last pill and raise his tongue.

Craig waited for Bobby to say something to him, but the man just stared at him for a long moment; his temples seemed to tense up and twitch. Craig was sure he could hear a clock ticking down the seconds from somewhere in the house.

"Well, this is getting very interesting." Jack nodded his head after a long silence. He was still standing next to Bobby and turned and looked at Angel. "You ever see Bobby this quiet?"

"Well, there was that one time when you used the end of his hockey stick to unplug the toilet." Angel sat back in his chair. "He had that same look on his face too."

Jack grinned wide and turned back to look at Craig. "Ouch. That one did hurt." He nodded his head.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure if Mom hadn't stepped in you would have been a pile of shit yourself by the time he was finished with you." Angel stood, letting his chair scrape against the floor. "I'm going to go call Sofi. She should be coming home soon and I want her to pick up a few things."

"We need something from the store? I'll drive you." Jack turned completely to Angel.

"I ain't riding in that piece of shit you like to call a car." Angel scowled at Jack.

"It runs, doesn't it? It's in one piece." Jack walked into the kitchen.

"That doesn't make it a real car, man." Angel followed Jack into the kitchen.

Craig stared at Bobby, wondering what was coming next. Usually after he took his pills he was sent to the couch to lie down, but he had a feeling this wasn't over. Hell, he knew it wasn't over. The look on Bobby's face told him it wasn't going to be over for a long time.

"What have you been doing with the pills?" Bobby asked the question quietly, his jaw tight and fixed.

Craig swallowed hard at the lump forming in his throat. He shrugged his shoulders a slightly, "Flushed them down the toilet." His voice came out weak.

Bobby sucked in a deep breath. "You got any idea how expensive these pills are? Hell, if I'd known you was gonna waste them all, I would have told that doctor to save me the time and trouble, it's not like we can afford them to start with." He shook his head. "You couldn't have flushed them all, what have you been doin' with the rest of them?"

Craig shrugged his shoulders, barely. "I don't know." He knew it sounded stupid as soon as he said it. The look that flashed across Bobby's face was a familiar one. It was one that he saw several times before in the past month, just before Bobby beat his ass hard.

"You wanna keep playin' games with me little boy?" Bobby's voice rose slightly. "I ain't in the mood for it, and I damn sure ain't gonna have a fourteen year old punk playing me for a fucking fool, you got that? I have enough to worry about right now, I shouldn't have to worry about you lyin' and sneaking around behind my back. I thought we had enough of an understanding that I could trust you. I can't trust you for shit though, can I?" Bobby snatched up a hard grip on the boy's arm, just above his left elbow and pulled him into the living room. He gave Craig a jerk to turn him sideways, reached down and him a hard crack on his butt.

The action came with no warning and surprised Craig. His right arm reached back instinctively to cover his ass, though he knew it wasn't a wise move.

"You gonna tell me what you did with the rest of the pills?" Bobby was close to yelling.

"Under the couch cushion," Craig admitted as another tear slid down his cheek.

Bobby let go of his arm and walked around the table, to the couch. "You are getting your ass whipped for this one kid." He started pulling up the cushions, starting on the left end and working his way down to the other end, next to the Christmas tree. Craig knew the pills were on the end closest to the tree. He swallowed back at fresh tears when Bobby started picking up pills, counting them out loud as he did. "Well, I know this ain't all of them." He turned and looked at Craig. "I got twenty here. Where are the rest of them?" He didn't yell, but he wanted to, Craig had become familiar enough with his brother to know when he was holding back his anger.

Craig remembered the pills under his bed mattress, but he thought he might be able to avoid Bobby finding those. "I flushed them Bobby." He barely got the words out. He tried to hold his eyes on his brother, but wasn't able to, he shifted his gaze away, just for a second.

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "You're lying to me. You want to keep playing games? I ain't big on this kind of game Craig, and I will break you of this little habit real fucking quick." He started around the table, coming towards the boy.

"Bobby, I'm sorry…" Craig managed to back away two steps before Bobby caught him by the arm again.

"You ain't sorry, you're worried about being busted in another lie. You should be. If I find more pills you are gonna regret it." He pulled Craig towards the stairs.

Craig noticed Jack and Angel both standing in the kitchen, looking their way as Bobby pulled him up the steps. He wasn't surprised when Bobby pulled him into his room and slammed the door shut hard before letting go of him.

"You want to tell me the truth yet?" Bobby turned and looked at the bed. He only had to take one step to get close enough to reach down and grab the edge of the mattress. He looked back at Craig, as if he were waiting for the boy to speak.

Craig couldn't find his voice. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Bobby lifted the mattress and pulled it off the bed, letting it fall against the dresser. He stood there and stared at the pills resting on the box spring for a long moment before he picked them up and added them to the pills in his hand. "You get to Ma's room, right now, and you get ready because when I get in there I'm giving you an ass beating."

Craig couldn't move. He drew in a deep breath; half thinking that he could still get out of an ass beating. "Bobby, I didn't mean…" He started to speak; his voice came out shaky, and weak.

"Shut the fuck up." Bobby cut off his statement as he turned and looked at him. "I just told you what to do. You do it now or I'm gonna do more than beat your ass. I'm pissed at you right now. I have never been this pissed at you, you got that? You don't wanna push the wrong buttons with me; I ain't so fuckin' pleasant when I'm pissed, you know that." His teeth were grinding together as he spoke.

Craig swallowed back the rest of the words he'd been about to say. He knew that he should feel bad for hiding the pills, and lying. He knew that he should feel guilty, and that he should feel some kind of remorse for Bobby being pissed at him, but it wasn't there. He was more worried about the ass beating he was going to get. Not so long ago, knowing Bobby was proud of him was one of the best feelings he'd ever felt, but now, at that very moment, it didn't matter. He drew in a deep breath and the feelings that were surfacing came out in words that he didn't know were there. "You spent the last three days not even knowing I was in the house, and you are going to get pissed at me because you didn't notice me enough to know what I was doing. That's not fair." He spoke quickly, a little louder than he meant to, but he said it, and there was no turning back now.

Bobby's eyes widened slightly, and he stared at Craig for a long moment before speaking. "Damn, kid, you've grown some balls overnight, haven't you? You got some kind of secret wish to get them cut off now? Because I'm more than happy to do that for you if that's what you want." He grabbed hold of Craig's arm again; he let the pills in his hand fall as he sat down on the box springs and dragged the teen down across his lap.

Craig hadn't expected Bobby to light up his backside right then and there. Despite his blue jeans offering some padding, it had to be the worst spanking Bobby had ever given him. It seemed to go on forever, and every time Craig tried to pull free the strikes seemed to come harder.

Bobby finally stopped, but he didn't let Craig up. The only sound was Craig's crying. He was sure Bobby would let him up after a couple of minutes, but he didn't.

"You want to tell me what your problem is yet?" Bobby finally spoke, after what seemed an eternity.

Craig squirmed slightly; Bobby's knee was digging into his stomach.

Bobby gave him another hard smack to his ass. "You lay still. You ain't done here. I'm just resting up a bit." He spoke loud. "Unless you're gonna tell me what the fuck you're problem it, I'm gonna finish this."

"I don't like the pills." Craig cried out. "I don't like them."

"That ain't good enough. You lied to me every time you took those pills out of my hand, do you know that?" Bobby yelled that time. "You fucking lied to me. You were the last person I ever thought would lie to me like that. You didn't like them; you should have spoke up and told me."

"I did, you didn't listen." Craig shot the words back angrily. "You never listen." He jumped with the hard crack that landed on his ass.

"I listen to you. That don't mean you're gonna get your own way all the fucking time. You need those pills." Bobby yelled again. "I ain't gonna trust you again Craig. I ain't gonna give you one bit of freedom to screw me over again." Bobby pulled him up and stood, draggin the teen to his feet as he did. "Okay, this is done. I'm too fucking pissed at you right now." He shook his head. "You fix your bed back up and then you get your ass downstairs. I got shit for you to do other than sit on the couch like a brain dead idiot."

Craig was surprised by the abrupt end to his punishment.

"You're gonna take down the Christmas tree and put away all the decorations. Then you're gonna pack up your game system, I'm selling it. You are gonna gather up your sketch pads and give them to me, and I'm gonna put them up. The rest of the day you're gonna stand your ass in the corner and keep quiet. There ain't gonna be no games like there was the last time. You're gonna keep quiet, or I'm gonna light up your ass again." Bobby stepped to the door and pulled it open.

"That's not fair." Craig reached up and wiped at the tears falling down his face. He hated Bobby Mercer at that moment.

"Yeah, it's not fair. Get used to it. That's what happens when you fuck me over. I ain't gonna put up with it. You know I love the hell out of you, but I ain't got the time right now to have you pullin' shit on me, you know that." Bobby sounded frustrated and angry. "I won't let you get away with it either. I'll deal with the shit if you want to keep dishin' it out Craig. I would rather not have to, I'd rather me and you talk, and work shit out together, but you made a choice, now you gotta live with the consequences. Believe me when I tell you, you ain't gonna like my consequences when you fuck up. I'm a hard ass, I ain't gonna coddle you like Ma did. You should know me better than that by now."

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Craig wasn't' sure if Bobby was waiting for him to say something. He finally steeled his fears and drew in a deep breath. "I want to go back to school." He muttered.

Bobby laughed a good, hearty laugh that showed how amusing the statement was.

Craig swallowed at the nerves Bobby's amusement wore on. "I'm tired of sitting around all of the time. I want to go back to school, and be with my friends. I want to be normal again." He wasn't aware how true the words were until they were out. "Please Bobby; I just want to be normal."

Bobby stopped laughing and studied the boy's face. He let out a heavy huff of air and shook his head. "You just played me for a fool for three days, and now you're gonna lay that kind of shit on me? No." He shook his head.

Craig felt more tears surging. "I just want to be normal again. I'm tired of feeling different, like there's something wrong with me." He wasn't exactly sure why he was saying the words, until he felt his mind tingling with the familiar sensation of the drugs hitting his system. It was the pills, he knew it was. He was losing his control to the pills, and while he hated the idea, saying the words did make him feel better.

Bobby stared at him for a long moment. "I'll think about it." His voice held hesitation. "It's gonna take a lot of convincing for me to think you're ready for school." He bent down and picked up one of the pills from the floor. "Especially after this kind of shit, you know that, don't you?"

Craig wiped at his tear streaked face again. "I hate those pills. They make me feel weird, like I can't think."

"Well, maybe we can talk to the doctor about changing them, but you don't just stop taking them because you don't like them. The doctor gave them to you for a reason. You got that?" Bobby turned back to look at the boy as he held up the pill.

Craig nodded his head slowly.

"You ain't gonna get away with that again, I won't give you a chance." Bobby nodded his head and sucked in a deep breath. "Okay, I'll call the doctor and see if we can get you into his office. Maybe he can come up with something else that won't make you feel so fucking bad. But no matter what he decides, whatever medication he puts you on, you are gonna take it."

Craig nodded his head and felt a pressure release from his chest that he hadn't been aware was there "I'm sorry." He felt more tears surge forth and couldn't hold them back.

Bobby looked as if his own anger was deflating quickly. "Come here." He held his arms out.

Craig took the step to his brother and grabbed hold of him. He buried his face in Bobby's shirt and cried hard for the first time since Saturday.

Bobby's arms came around him and held onto him. "Okay, I know it ain't been easy. I know that. I know the shit you gotta deal with Craig. I really do, and I want to help, but I can't do that if you're sneaking around behind my back. You got that? You gotta be honest with me. You gotta talk to me when shit starts bugging you."

"You were busy." Craig spoke into the man's shirt. "The police, and..."

"Craig, you know all you had to do was say something and you would have had my full attention, I thought you were doin' okay. You come first. You got that?" Bobby gave him a quick squeeze. "But I ain't no mind reader. You gotta speak up and tell me what the hell is goin' on sometimes."

Craig nodded his head and breathed in a shaky breath. He didn't realize how much he'd missed feeling close to his oldest brother. He hadn't felt anything for days. He hadn't cared that he was putting distance between himself and everyone else, he had liked it. Now he was letting Bobby's presence wash over him, and it felt good, better than he thought it would.

"You're still being punished though. You're gonna fix up your bed, pick up these pills and then come down and work on getting that tree out of the house. You need something to do, I'm giving you plenty. Then you have the corner to stand in. You owe me an hour in the corner, and then we'll see what happens next." Bobby spoke quietly. "You understand that?"

Craig nodded his head again. He didn't want to give up his place in Bobby's arms right then, but he knew it was going to end any moment. "I love you Bobby." He muttered.

Bobby's arms tightened. "I love you too kid." He gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head. "Now get to work." He pulled his arms away.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to all for the reviews, and hope you enjoy this next chapter :)

Still don't own, still make no money.

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**Chapter 8: A New Threat**

Nicholas Peters hadn't bothered to fasten up the front of his black overcoat. The temperature was still below freezing, but the air no longer held the bite to it of previous weeks. He half wondered how long they were going to be seeing a break in the weather. Not long he was sure.

He slammed his car door closed and used the remote to lock it up and activate the alarm system. He looked around the street, wondering if the Federal agent who had phoned was somewhere nearby, watching him, though the street looked abandoned. His nerves were wearing thin; he didn't like the feel of this whole situation.

First he'd suffered for over a year under Victor Sweet's thumb, and just when he thought he was free to move on with his life and right his wrongs, Jessup Winston had approached him with the same picture of infidelity Sweet had used to control him. Sure, Winston's deal had been much more appealing to him, with the cash pay offs, but the threat was still there, he hadn't been given a choice, not really.

Jeremiah Mercer didn't deserve to have his entire life ripped out from under him, and he did feel bad that he'd been forced to be a part of that. But he didn't deserve to have his own life end up in ruins either; he may have lost his wife because of the entire mess; she was still trying to come to terms with his actions. He had lost his job with the city, on the zoning commission. His assets had been frozen pending the findings of the courts. In other words, he was broke. The only physical property to escape the hammer so far had been the house, which had been in his wife's name.

It seemed to be a never ending cycle. The worst was supposed to be over, according to his lawyer. He had the proof that he was being blackmailed by Jessup Winston; he had the photo copy of the damaging picture with Winston's fingerprints all over it. True, he hadn't mentioned the money that had been paid, but that was neither here nor there, really. If he had refused the money, or refused to follow Winston's instructions, that damn picture would have been published in the paper. He'd done what he had out of desperation and fear. He had acted under duress. Until that could be proven in court he was hanging by a thread. Of course he had been smart enough to stash the cash money paid to him by Winston in other places than his bank account so he wasn't hurting nearly as bad as it appeared.

The problem was, now the FBI wanted to talk to him. Why, he didn't know. His lawyer had advised him not to talk to anyone about his case without him being present, but Harris had seemed threatening. Hell, that was all he needed, more threats, more worries. He wanted the nightmare to end. Too many people were dead. In some ways the death of Jessup Winston made it easier for him to get out from under the weight of it all, but it was frightening. How many other people involved with the scheme would end up six feet under? Peters didn't want to be added to the death count, and it seemed he'd managed to ride it out to the end in one piece.

The men who had ruined his life were dead, it should be over. Once he could convince the courts he was a victim, he could have his money and his life back; he wanted to put it all behind him and concentrate on getting his wife back.

He held onto the hope of salvaging what was left of his marriage. His wife wasn't unreasonable. They had talked, and she knew he loved her, she just needed time. He could give her time. He had moved out of the house, and he'd left her enough money to get by on for a month. He just prayed that she came around to her senses by the end of the month and let him come home.

The afternoon sun warmed the street. Tri-Centennial Park seemed abandoned despite the mild weather. He walked towards the visitor's center, wondering why the hell Agent Harris had chosen this spot to meet up with him. The park was a big camping and boating spot, popular in the warmer months, but usually quiet and deserted in the winter. He hated the idea of not having other people around, and was about to turn and head back to his car parked on Atwater St.

The door to the visitor's center opened and a man wearing a suit and tie under a grey rain coat stepped out, looking directly at him. "Mr. Peters?" His voice seemed to lack any sound of human emotion, reminding Peters of the way Victor Sweet had sounded when he spoke. He stepped up to Peters casually.

Peters found himself looking up at the man, who had to stand at least six feet, two inches. He gave the stranger a quick nod and offered his right hand in greeting.

Harris looked at the hand but didn't pull his own out of his pocket to accept the offer. "I'm Federal Agent Harris." He sounded irritated, if anything.

"What is this about, Agent Harris? My lawyer said that …" Peters started to tell the man why that he had reconsidered this meeting. Hell, it just felt wrong standing there at that moment. His instincts were screaming at him to turn and leave.

"You're lawyer isn't here, and this has nothing to do with your pending case." Harris turned and started walking down the sidewalk, towards the docks. "Walk with me Mr. Peters." He barked without looking back.

Peters looked around, again spooked by the lack of people around him. He felt as if he should be cautious for some reason. He sighed and pushed his concerns down deep into his gut. He was worried about nothing. This was an FBI agent for God's sake. What could be so dangerous about him? "What is this about then, Agent Harris?" He had to trot to catch up to Harris' long legs. "If it has nothing to do with my case, then what do you want with me?"

"It has to do with Jeremiah Mercer. You do remember him, don't you Mr. Peters? You shut down his project not so long ago, and now you are paying the price for it, right?" Harris didn't bother to slow down his long stride, or give Peters the respect of at least looking at him. "Tell me how Jeremiah Mercer set you up, Peters."

"Mercer didn't blackmail me, Jessup Winston did." Peters was able to slow down to a fast walk, but his legs weren't used to working this hard. He was, after all, chained to a desk most of the time, and this was just too much for him. "Agent Harris, please, can't you stop? We don't have to walk in order to have this conversation."

"I want to find a discrete location, Mr. Peters." Harris snapped the words at him. "Calm down."

"Calm down? You dragged me out here with the impression this had to do with my case, and now you're telling me it doesn't. I want to know what is going on, and I want to know now." Peters stopped in his tracks. He wasn't going one step further until he knew why the FBI was after him. "Just how discrete do you want this to be? Hell, there isn't another person around for miles. It's not like this is the most popular spot this time of year."

Harris continued walking a few more steps before pulling to a stop and turning to look at him. "We are not going to talk here, it's too public." He rolled his eyes, not an act to endear him to Peters' heart. He didn't appreciate being treated as if he were some ignorant fool. He was well aware that Harris was up to something that had nothing to do with his legal dilemma.

"Too public," Peters looked around at the abandoned park. Not much fishing or boating going on around them at the moment. No joggers trotting past, or campers strolling about. He laughed at the absurd notion that someone might overhear their conversation. Hell, his car was the only one parked on the street at the park entrance. "Please, just tell me what you want from me."

Harris let out a huff. "Fine, have it your way. I need any and all documentation you have of Jeremiah Mercer's business dealings. You do have those papers, don't you?"

"No, actually, I do not. That was city business, and any paperwork pertaining to Jeremiah Mercer's redevelopment project that I did have, I turned over to the zoning commission when I lost my job." Peters couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his words. Who the hell did this fool think he was? It wasn't as if he had been in charge of his office, he did have people that he answered to when he was a city employee. "Why don't you contact the office for whatever it is you need?"

Harris reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a fat cigar. He seemed to be thinking as he carefully slid the cellophane wrap away. "What I need isn't anything the city would have. You would. I know Mercer was involved with Sweet, and I need that proof." His voice sounded cold and hard and detached in some way. He raised the cigar to his mouth, took a nip off of the end and spit it into the melting snow before pulling out a book of matches. Within moments the air was filled with the scent of cherries wafting past Peters in the heavy looking smoke.

Peters coughed at the odor and turned his head slightly away. "What are you talking about? Jeremiah Mercer did not have any dealings with Sweet. He was set up. Hell, he didn't have any dealings with Jessup Winston either, that was another set up. Poor guy was kicked when he was down…" Peters couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor son of a bitch. Hell, he regretted the choice he had made not so long ago to set Jeremiah Mercer up.

"You don't understand, Mr. Peters. If I can prove that Jeremiah Mercer is a no good hoodlum, no better than Sweet, or Winston, then you are off the hook." Harris's eyes bore through Peters as they locked stares.

"What?" Peters felt his gut twisting. Shit, was an FBI agent trying to set him for another big fall? No, if this was a set up, it was going to be much worse than a fall; it was going to bury him. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know what the hell you're digging for Harris, but I can't help you." He started to back up step, a feeling of dread taking over his very being.

"Sure you can, Peters. Unless you want this to be the last civilized conversation you have." Harris used his left hand to pull his coat back just enough that his holster and side arm were visible. "Hell of a shame what can happen to a man when he's running from a federal agent. I've had to take many a man down by shooting them in the back. Not that I was shooting to kill mind you, but I had to try to stop my suspects somehow…"A grin played on the man's lips. "Now, let's get to some serious talking. I still would prefer to take this some place a little less public. "He turned and motioned towards the boat docks, "After you Mr. Peters." He motioned for Peters to walk in the direction of the frozen lake.

Peters drew in a weak breath. It looked as if he had another problem, a new threat was in town, and his name was Harris.

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Jeremiah listened as Camille complained over the phone about the amount of time he'd already been gone from home, and the fact that he was heading back to his mother's house to talk to his brothers. He waited until his wife took a breath before responding to her. "Camille, baby, you know I gotta take care of this. I want to come home, I really do, but this is serious."

"Then tell me what is going on Jeremiah. No more of this bull about how something has come up." Camille's voice was quiet.

"I can't, not yet." Jeremiah shook his head, despite the fact that Camille couldn't see the action from the other end of the phone.

"I can't keep doing this." Camille sounded hurt. "I've talked to you about this before and we can't go on like this. We have some problems and we need to fix them."

"I know, I do know that," Jeremiah sighed. "You are the most important thing to me, you and the girls. You know that. I love you. But what's happening here, it is serious Baby."

"Just tell me." Camille pushed.

"Not yet. I need to tell you when I get home." Jeremiah was tired of going around in circles. "Look, either you trust me, or you don't. Which is it?" He finally asked the question that was burning at his chest. "I need you to trust me, but if you don't, then you need to do what you gotta do." He felt his heart ripping in two as he said the words.

"I trust you, Jeremiah; I don't trust what you are doing right now though. Why is it more important for you to talk to Bobby than me? I'm your wife." Camille's hurt seemed to turn and her voice took on some strength. "It was different before, but my God, you almost died in that warehouse, and I can't lose you, not like that. We never had these problems before. Why can't you come home to me, and call Bobby on the phone?"

"Because what I gotta tell them ain't good Camille, not at all, and they need to know…" Jeremiah stopped himself. "I will fill you in when I get home. I won't be long, I promise." He hung up the phone before his wife could argue further. He pulled his car to a stop at the curb in front of his mother's house and put it in park. He looked up at the first real home he'd ever known and wondered how much longer it was going to be a part of his life. How much longer was his family, which was already hanging together by a thin thread, going to be subjected to the bullshit?

He was tempted to walk into that house and tell his brothers they all had to get the hell out of Detroit. As happy as he was to have them all close again, to feel that connection that had been missing for so many years, he was willing to give it all up just to know that they were all well and safe, somewhere else.

The voices of his brothers could be heard from outside the house, loud and boisterous, Bobby's the loudest of them all. Jeremiah was sure he could hear laughter, and that made what he was about to do all that much harder. He steeled his fears and worries and pushed his way through the thick air on the closed in porch, trudging to the front door of the house. He managed to enter unnoticed and unheard. Bobby, Angel and Jack seemed to be in the dining room, laughing while Bobby's voice rang out like a mocking sports announcer.

Jeremiah remembered his roughhousing with Angle on Thanksgiving, the brief wrestling match that had ended with his pinning Angel and putting him in his place. Bobby's talents at calling shots and moves had shown through that morning.

Now, Bobby's playful tone was rising while quiet grumbling from the living room mixed in, the two conflicting sounds forming a melody, so to speak, that felt familiar and made the house feel more like home than it had in years.

Craig was on his knees, half crawling half dragging the dry and prickly Christmas tree left over from the holidays out of the corner and into the middle of the room.

"Don't drag it like that, you're gonna get those needles all over the floor. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get those things cleaned up?" Jack called out, but amusement intertwined with his words. "Hell, you'll be sweeping them up until next Christmas." His laugher nearly over drowned out Bobby's play by play.

"Craig's got the tree by the trunk, will he manage to hold it down this time, or will the tables turn? We've already seen the tree take him down by a sneak attack from the rear!" Bobby called out.

Jerry couldn't help but laugh while Craig struggled with the unruly branches. Dry needles seemed to stab at the poor kid as they fell away into a mess under his feet. The tree was twice the size as the youngest Mercer and he wasn't strong enough to control the weight of it, not after the month he'd had. Jeremiah leaned against the door way leading into the living room and started peeling off his gloves. He felt his heart lighten just a little while he watched Craig fall back onto his butt, landing on the coffee table. The kid looked towards the dining room while his audience continued their good hearted jibes.

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh. We'll see where I put all these damn needles later on, after I sweep them up." Craig muttered just loud enough for Jeremiah to hear him, but probably not at a level that would reach Bobby, Angel, or Jack. "Underwear, I'll just load all of your underwear with dry Christmas tree needles." He went on. "Socks would be good too; they won't come out of your socks for a month."

Jeremiah chuckled quietly, drawing Craig's attention in his direction. The teenager scowled at the fourth brother's presence, and his obvious amusement. "Yeah, laugh it up Jerry, I can still get you too." He muttered and turned back to the tree.

"Jerr', what the hell, I thought you was gonna call, you ass hole." Bobby stepped into view at the opposite doorway. "Get your ass in here. What the hell did Green say?" He didn't bother keeping his voice down.

Craig turned and looked in Bobby's direction, then shifted his gaze to Jeremiah.

"You get your ass back to work little boy. You ain't done here. You got that tree to get out of here, and then you got all those boxes of Christmas crap to put up in the attic." Bobby looked at Craig and waited until the boy was following his directions before glancing at Jeremiah and motioning for him to move to the dining room. "Come on, get in here and talk to me little brother. I need to know what the hell is going on."

Jeremiah moved towards the dining room, taking one last look at Craig. "You know, if you cover it with a sheet it's a lot easier." He pointed to the tree."

Craig looked tired and frustrated. "Thanks." He muttered. "But Bobby won't let me use a sheet."

"He's working off some shit. He needs to do it the hard way; maybe it will teach him a lesson. I'll explain later." Bobby walked back into the dining room.

Jeremiah wasn't surprised to see his brothers each drinking a beer. He dropped into the first available chair and pulled his hat off of his head. He dropped it onto the table and looked at Bobby, who seemed to find it difficult to stop watching and taunting Craig.

"Get it in a choke hold, maybe you can choke the life out of it." Bobby laughed while Craig continued to struggle with the oversized, dead tree. "Don't let it get the best of you. You gotta show it whose boss."

"Bobby, we really need to talk." Jeremiah spoke up.

Bobby looked at Jeremiah and frowned. "Green had bad news, huh? What the hell did he tell you? Harris is out for blood, ain't he?" He picked up his bottle of beer and tipped it up, draining it quickly. "I think I need another bottle. You want a beer Jerr'?" He started to move towards the kitchen.

"Bobby, you're gonna need something a hell of a lot stronger than beer." Jeremiah spoke loud enough that Bobby would take him seriously. He couldn't stand the screw off attitude that Bobby liked to exhibit when he was nervous.

"Well shit Jerr', that's nothing I can't take care of." Bobby called back as he disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later he returned with a bottle of whiskey and four glasses. "Okay little brother, spill it. I was right, wasn't I?" He started pouring shots, giving the first one a slide across the table to Jeremiah. He repeated the action until Angel and Jack had a drink, and emptied the bottle into his own glass, filling it to the rim.

Jeremiah picked up the glass with both hands and rolled it between his palms slowly. "You have no idea." He stared at the whiskey sloshing around the glass from the motion. He finally looked at Bobby and cleared his throat. "Drink that first, maybe you'll be less likely to go off half cocked if you have a little bit of that shit in you."

Bobby didn't smile, but he picked up the glass and drained it down, despite the burning it had to inflict. He slammed the empty glass back to the table and used his sleeve to wipe at the corner of his mouth and narrowed his gaze on Jeremiah, waiting.

Hell, now he really had to tell his brother the news that would probably send him into one of his rages. "Well, Bobby, it's pretty simple really." Jeremiah started out speaking slow. He looked at the doorway, where Craig was now standing, staring in at them. His gaze was locked on the empty whiskey bottle and Jeremiah wondered if it still bothered him to see his brothers drinking. Hell, if the kid was gonna hear this; he might need a drink himself…


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks to all who reviewed! Let me know what you think of this one :) Sorry for the cliffhangers, I'll do my best not to do that again.......well, umm, maybe :)

Still don't own, still make no money.

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**Chapter 9: Nightmare Come True**

Craig knew that Jeremiah's presence in the house so soon after going to talk to Green couldn't be a good thing. He watched the man move past him to the dining room, joining his brothers there. Bobby said something about Green's news before offering Jerry a beer. Craig let the tree rest in the middle of the floor on its side and walked slowly to the dining room door in time to hear Jeremiah tell Bobby he was going to need something stronger than beer. He watched and listened; breathing extra shallow for fear that Bobby would see him and tell him to get out of earshot of their conversation. He felt his insides twist up on him when Bobby went for the whiskey, and it bothered him a little when his brothers all took their drinks. It was scary to think that the news was going to be so bad that Jeremiah thought Bobby needed a good hard drink. He wanted to know what Green had said just as badly as his brothers, and he had just as much a right to know as any of them did. It involved him too.

He watched as Bobby filled his own glass nearly to the brim, draining the bottle completely. Blood swished in his hears, and he knew he should duck back into the living room before Bobby yelled at him for listening in. Instead he stood there and observed as Bobby downed the tall glass of whiskey before slamming his glass back to the table. He felt his insides flinch as the sound of glass making contact with the wood table cracked through the air.

"Well, Bobby, it's pretty simple really." Jeremiah looked towards Craig and hesitated.

Bobby looked over and his scowl deepened. "Is that tree out on the curb yet?" He asked; his irritation showing. He was no longer joking like he had been just a minute before.

"I want to know." Craig muttered. "I should be able to hear this too." He was sure that he was about to get his ass chewed out.

Bobby opened his mouth to argue, but Jack spoke up first. "He has a right to know."

Bobby turned to Jack. "I'll tell him myself, when I'm damn good and ready." He shifted on his feet for a moment before turning back to Craig. He started to yell at him, Craig could see it in his eyes. Instead he held a finger up towards him. "You keep your ass quiet, no matter what?" He asked him.

Craig nodded his head slowly, not one hundred percent sure that Bobby was giving in.

"Okay, you get your ass over here and sit down." Bobby pulled his own chair back from the table.

Craig stared at him for a long moment, "Really?" He finally managed to find his voice.

"Don't make me say it again. You sit and keep your mouth shut, no matter what you hear. You let us talk this out before you get all fucked in the head over it, you understand me?" Bobby pointed to the chair.

Craig walked over and sat. He felt Bobby move in right behind him. "Okay, Jerr', spit it out already." His brother snapped.

Jeremiah drew in a deep breath. "You're sure you want him to hear this?" He didn't sound as if he thought it was such a good idea.

"It will keep him from being tempted to sneak around behind my back, a nasty habit that I plan on breaking. Just tell us what the hell Green said already?" Bobby's voice came out loud.

Jeremiah sucked in a deep breath. "Well, it looks like Adam Macks has some kind of connection to our friend, FBI Agent Harris." He locked eyes with Bobby. "He was working for him, and now Harris is out for some blood."

"What?" Angel's voice was quiet. "That's bullshit." He shook his head. "There ain't no way that sick fucker was working for the Feds, they went after his ass in Ohio."

"It ain't bullshit, you think about it. He was released from prison for a reason, and it wasn't because of some crappy technicality." Jeremiah sighed heavily and managed to divert his attention to Angel. "Harris busted him out of prison, to work for him. Apparently he was supposed to get in close with some big shot gangsters and report shit back to the Feds. Are you with me so far on that?" His tone turned hard. "It ain't bullshit, and it ain't a joke. We got serious problems here." He rested his elbows on the table and pressed his face into his hands as if it would help ease pressure from somewhere deep inside. He continued speaking into his palms, any expression on his face shielded for the moment. "I guess the whole Sweet business was part of that. There was another agent in the mix somewhere, he was supposed to be working with Macks, keeping tabs on his ass, but he came up missing a couple of months back. The government had offered Macks full immunity from any charges, so long as he got the information they wanted. He had free reign to acquire that information in any form necessary."

Jeremiah sucked in a deep breath, pulled his face from his hands and looked up at Bobby. There was a long moment of silence, as if he was waiting for the eldest Mercer to say something. He finally nodded his head slowly and continued speaking. "If he hadn't died, he wouldn't have been facing any jail time, that's why he didn't give a fuck about getting caught. That's the reason he came after…"He looked back down at Craig and stopped speaking in mid sentence and seemed to switch the direction he was headed with his statement. "He would have been arrested by the local cops; the feds would have just swooped in and nabbed his ass, pulling him back to where ever the hell they needed to in order keep his cover safe."

"Well, he's dead, there's not much they can do about that now." Jack spoke quietly.

"Yeah, dick-weed, he's dead. That's the problem." Angel looked at Jack. "If their informant is dead, how the hell are they gonna get their fucking information? Macks must have known something pretty important that they didn't want to leak out to anyone else. Now, Harris is gonna go after anyone he thinks might know what the hell Macks knew."

Bobby cleared his throat. "He's gonna be on us like stink on shit." His voice sounded tight, but quiet. "He ain't gonna care so much that we don't know what the fuck Macks knew, he's just gonna want to pin his problems on someone, and that's gonna be us."

A heavy silence filled the room; no one spoke, or moved for what seemed a long time. Craig wondered if it was too late to pretend he hadn't heard any of what had just been said. He could go back to the living room and struggle with dragging the Christmas tree out of the house and to the front curb and go on with his life under the false pretense that everything was fine. He wanted to forget about Adam Macks and forget everything that had happened to him since his mother's death. How could he if Harris was going to hover over them? That's what Jeremiah was saying, Harris was going to circle them like a hawk honing in on its prey, ready to draw blood at the first opportunity that arose.

"Ain't nothin' they can do, they can't pin Mack's death on us. The crazy son of a bitch was out to kill us; or worse." Bobby spoke suddenly from right behind Craig while his hands took a hold of the boy's shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "Okay kid, you know exactly the same shit we know. You get your ass back in there and get that tree out of the living room." He seemed calm enough.

Craig wasn't sure if Bobby and calm were a good combination right then. How could any of them be calm at that moment after hearing the news? He didn't move at first, his body was trying to catch up to the reality that his mind was already rejecting. In that moment of hesitation it dawned on him that Bobby was trying to get rid of him so they could talk.

Craig stood slowly as Bobby's hands pulled away. He turned and looked at Bobby. "What are you going to do?" He wanted his brother to know that he wasn't as stupid as he might have looked.

"I'm gonna have another fucking drink before I come in to check on your progress with that tree." Bobby was avoiding the question.

Craig swallowed back the argument that was working up inside of him. Just three seconds before he had been trying to figure out a way to hide from the facts Jeremiah had spilled out. He didn't like what was happening, but at the time he didn't want to be left out. He had a right to know what was going on, and his brothers were going to make plans of some kind as soon as he was out of the room.

"You don't worry about this." Bobby seemed to be reading his mind. "We ain't gonna do shit until we've talked to Robert Bradford. I promise when we do figure something out you will be the first to know, okay?"

Craig was sure that was a line being fed to him to get him out of their way, but he turned and walked into the living room without saying anything else. He stood there and stared at the dry, brittle evergreen lying on the floor in front of him. He could feel the frustration inside of him growing. His father was still screwing around with his head and he wasn't even alive. How could the monster still be there, hiding behind Federal agents and immunity when he had been killed days earlier?

He grabbed hold of the tree and started dragging it across the floor with him, towards the foyer. He allowed his frustration to focus on the awkward feel of the dying wood in his grasp. It was taller than he was, and it wanted to roll from side to side, clunking against the floor to splash browning needles to the floor with every step closer he got to the door.

"Don't scratch up the fucking floor with that thing either!" Bobby yelled from the dining room, though he wasn't within range to see what was happening in the living room. Craig quickly checked the floor behind the tree to make sure he wasn't going to have a trail etched into the floor behind him. Once he was sure it was safe he continued moving.

After nearly five minutes of pulling and tugging the branches past the front door he managed to free the tree, at least it was on the front porch. He turned and looked at the trail of broken stems and needles along the floor of the foyer. He would have to clean that up, and he was seriously considering the needles in the underwear threat from earlier.

Before he could worry about the mess he was leaving behind he needed to get the tree the rest of the way out of the house. His brow had broken into a sweat, and he felt out of breath. The past week had taken a toll on him he hadn't been aware of, obviously. He shouldn't have had such a hard time dragging the thing out of the house. Awkward was understandable, the thing was bigger than he was, but this damn hard was ridiculous. Adam Macks kept trying to push his way into his brain, but he managed to keep him at bay by concentrating on the tree and allowing himself to get irritated with the task at hand.

Craig managed to pull the top part of the tree out the door behind him, stumbling on the cement steps as he moved down them. The limbs grabbed onto the interior wall and seemed to take hold. Craig stepped back on the sidewalk and examined the sight in front of him. The top, narrow half of the tree was hanging out past the new storm door and he realized he'd tried to drag the wrong end first. The growth of the branches would have made dragging the bottom half out first much easier; they would have folded in easily offering little resistance.

He grabbed hold again, and started pushing the beast back inside, convinced he would be able to turn it on around and try his theory. It wouldn't move. He gave it another push, and tried to shift the trunk up and down to get it to move; nothing happened. "Shit." He felt the frustration inside growing. "Move, you son of a bitch," He muttered and have it a hard pull and then another push.

His patience had reached its limits after a few more attempts. He knew it wasn't really the tree that was pulling his anger and frustration from deep inside. It was the fears that were churning around, again. New fears and new thoughts of everything that could go wrong were building inside, ready to erupt any moment. The tree was a good reason to draw it all out. He wanted to stop feeling again. Why did his mind have to choose today of all days to rediscover the emotions churning around in him?

On top of the resurgence of the feelings he'd been safe from in recent days, his mind felt groggy from the pills and his body didn't want to follow the mental directions he was trying to command of it. The pills were really starting to work now, they were preventing him from blocking out the images of his father's face. The man's laugh echoed in his head and Jeremiah's revelation seemed to intensify the frustration burning at his chest.

His anger at the tree was quickly shifting to the thoughts running through his mind. Someone had made a decision to let his father out of prison, supposedly so he could spy on some thugs. If Adam Macks had been undercover for the FBI, as Jeremiah claimed, it hadn't changed anything about him. He had used his freedom to make Craig's life hell. He had gone after what was his, staked his claim and blindly ravaged everything in Craig's life. His ties with the criminal element may have been a ruse as far as the government was concerned, but it had been a well established relationship that his father had worked hard at building long before he'd been sentenced to prison for the murder of his wife, and the abuse and attempted murder of his son.

If Adam Macks had taken the FBI up on their offer, it was only to gain his freedom and form his plans; plans that had almost played out in his favor. If he had been feeding the FBI any information, it had to be bogus, or just enough valid little tidbits to keep his freedom.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Jack's voice brought the boy out of his thoughts. He realized he had stopped struggling with the tree and was standing there, staring at it, not really seeing it. He looked up to see Jack standing on the other side of door, the tree blocking his exit from the porch.

The cool air hit his hot face and he realized there were tears running down his cheeks. He looked at Jack for a long moment. "It got stuck." He muttered, hoping Jack wouldn't make any jokes about the tree he'd managed to jam in the doorway.

Jack looked at the obstacle blocking his path and then at Craig. "Yep, it sure did." He pulled a cigarette out of the pack he was holding in his hand and stuck it in his mouth. "Are you trying some kind of mental telepathy on it or what?" He spoke over the filter tip while he dug for his lighter in his pants pocket.

Craig shrugged his shoulders, feeling embarrassed that Jack had caught him losing his self control for a moment.

"Well, if I pull on this end and you push on that end, we can get it back in here and turn it around. It's going to out a lot easier if you turn it around" Jack kept his eyes fixed on him while he lit his cigarette. "You okay?" He finally asked.

"They let him out of prison on purpose." Craig muttered.

"Yeah," Jack nodded his head. "So?" He sounded as if he didn't understand how much worse that fact made everything else that had happened in recent weeks.

"So?" Craig couldn't believe Jack didn't understand the importance of his statement.

"Yeah, so what if they let him out on purpose. What difference does that make? He did what he did, and we lived through it." Jack's voice stayed even. "Nothing has changed, except that now we all know the FBI consists of a bunch of stupid dicks in suits, right? It doesn't change a damn thing that's happened up until now."

Craig couldn't explain why Jack's words pissed him off so much. He wanted Jack to understand how terrible everything felt, and how knowing his father was released from prison with a pat on the back and backing from the FBI made everything worse. His father had been given a license to maim and kill and torture. He'd probably been given money by that same federal agency to fund everything he was doing, and everything he'd done was covered in a deal that offered him complete immunity? If he hadn't died, nothing would have been done to him for all of the pain he'd caused. He would have just been set free to do it all again and again, until he finally managed to get what he wanted.

"Craig, it's really hard trying to talk to you like this. Come on, you push, I'll pull." Jack tucked his lips around the cigarette and held it there while he grabbed hold of the tree with his gloved hands; his eyes squinted against the wisps of smoke floating up from the end of his cigarette.

Craig hesitated for a moment, but reached out to maneuver his hands in between the needles with minimal pricking to grab hold of the trunk. The tree seemed to slide backwards easily and within minutes Jack was helping him pull the bothersome thing out the door, bottom first. His brother let go of the tree once they had both cleared the steps and Craig dragged it out to the curb.

"You okay?" Jack waited until Craig was walking back towards him before asking the question.

Craig shrugged his shoulders in response. He didn't want to talk to Jack about the confusion that was building inside. He was still cautious of trusting Jack. He wanted to be able to talk to him, but wasn't quite ready to take that step.

"Hey, don't you think I know what you're thinking? Hell, that son of a bitch never should have been on the streets to start with. They had him, and they opened the door and let him walk. It's bullshit. I get that. But it was how it was and we can't change that." Jack pulled his cigarette from his mouth and blew out a puff of smoke.

Craig drew in a breath as the memories crept in, the sounds and smells that had filled his room the night his father had lost control and killed his mother, his real mother; it all came back so vividly in his mind. He looked down at the sidewalk under his feet and tried to push the images out of his head, but it did no good. The melting snow had soaked every inch of the sidewalk, and he used his foot to tap at a small pool of water under him. "He killed my mother." He muttered. "He was gonna kill me." He didn't look at Jack. "And they let him out so he could do it again. It makes it feel like my mom wasn't important enough for them to keep him locked up. I wasn't important enough." He admitted, unable to keep it inside. "We weren't worth enough for anyone to care about all of that."

"You know that's not true. You know how important you are, at least to us, right?" Jack asked; his voice barely audible.

Craig looked up at Jack and was about to admit to his brother that he still struggled with that concept on a daily basis, but the sound of breaks squealing to a stop in front of the house interrupted what may have been the start of the first real talk he'd had with Jack since he'd found out about his lies and secrets.

Craig barely had a chance to look over towards the numerous black sedans and police cruisers gathering out in front of their house and the men wearing suits and ties that were suddenly swarming their front yard, when a man came up from behind him and grabbed hold of his arm. "Bobby!" Jack's voice cut through the air and Craig could hear the fear.

"Jack?" Craig called out when the man grabbing hold pulled him backwards away from the house. He tried to pull away, but it did no good. Uniformed officers exited their cars, but hung back to let the plainclothes take action.

"Jack Mercer, you are under arrest for the murder of Adam Macks." A familiar man stepped towards Jack and the confusion cleared away just enough for Craig to recognize Agent Harris from his brief meeting that morning.

"What the fuck is going on?" Bobby yelled from the doorway.

"Just stay back, please." Harris barely acknowledged the three men emerging from the house before he started reading Jack his rights. Another man in a black suit and tie pulled out handcuffs and started slapping them around Jack's wrists, pulling his arms behind his back to secure them there.

"Bobby…" Jack turned and looked at Bobby, the confusion and fear clearly present in his eyes.

"Hey what the hell do you think you are doing?" Bobby made a dash towards Harris, but his way was quickly blocked by two other suits. "What the fuck are you doin' Harris? You can't arrest him, he hasn't done anything." Bobby yelled.

"Bobby!" Craig tried to pull free from the grip pulling him towards a car parked at the corner.

"What the hell is going on?" Jeremiah turned towards Craig while Bobby continued to question Harris and quickly moved in his direction.

"Jim Robinson, Children's Services." The man holding onto Craig flipped identification out and flashed it at Jeremiah as he approached. "We are removing Craig Mercer from the household while an investigation is carried out." His voice sounded as hard as Harris', several yards away.

"You can't just come in here and take him!" Jeremiah cried out, reaching for Craig's other arm.

Jim Robinson pulled Craig out of Jeremiah's reach and thrust papers towards him. "As long as the FBI is working the case against you and your brothers, Craig will remain in the custody of the state." He spoke quickly. "We have a court order."

Craig felt his chest constrict and his stomach tightened up. He tried again to pull free of the hold on his arm, only to have another pair of hands grab both of his arms from behind. Jim Robinson released him and allowed his partner, whoever the hell he was ,to hold onto Craig while he turned his full attention to blocking Jeremiah.

Craig's ears started ringing and he looked past Jerry to watch as the agents pulled Jack towards one of the cars. "I'm calling Robert right now Jackie! Don't you talk to anyone about shit, you got that? Not without your lawyer in the room with you!" Bobby was yelling the words, his path to Jack still being blocked by other agents and the uniformed officers. Angel was standing next to Bobby, punching numbers on his cell phone.

"Bobby, do something!" Jack managed to call out just as he was forced into the back of one of the black sedans that had converged on them with no warning.

"We'll get you out Jack!" Bobby tried to reach the car, but was pushed back by the two uniformed officers just as it took off down the street, carrying Jack away.

"Bobby!" Jeremiah called out as he read through the papers.

Bobby turned and took in the site around him. His eyes were hard as stone, but they seemed to flicker with a fire as they soaked in what was going on at the other end of the sidewalk with Jeremiah and Craig. "Hey, no fucking way, you get your mother fucking hands off of him!" His stride was quick as he moved in their direction. "You sons of bitches ain't got no right to touch him, what the fuck you think you're gonna charge him with? He's just a kid!"

"They're with Children's Services Bobby." Jerry spoke quickly. "They ain't cops." He held the papers out towards Bobby.

Craig could still feel his body being pulled away. "Bobby!" He nearly screamed out as the reality of what was happening hit him. It seemed his nightmares were coming to life. His father was still haunting his mind; Jack had just been arrested for killing the monster, and now he was being dragged away from his home. They had come for him, and they were going to take him away from the only family he had.

Bobby slapped at the papers Jeremiah was trying to hold out to him, and moved without hesitation towards the man dragging Craig down the sidewalk. Craig reached out towards him, just as the two uniformed officers intercepted his brother's approach. "Let go of me!" Craig screamed out while the police officers struggled to hold Bobby and Jeremiah back. He could feel the panic growing inside of him as more hands seemed take hold of him, forcing him to lean over and the into the back seat of a car. "Bobby!" He screamed out as the door slammed shut. He tried to grab for the door handle, but arms wrapped around him as automatic locks were engaged. He tried to squirm out of the hold that was on him, using his legs to kick and his arms to thrash out at whatever he could make contact with.

"Just calm down Craig, you're going to be fine. You'll be able to go home once the investigation is over; so long as nothing is found that would suggest the home environment is detrimental to you well being." A strange voice spoke from directly next to him in the seat as the car pulled away from the curb.

Craig managed to twist around enough to see Bobby taking a swing at one of the uniformed officers in front of the house just before the car drove far enough down the street that the sight was blocked by the neighbor's garage. "Bobby!" He screamed out one last time.


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks to al for reading, and those of you who reviewed the last chapter, special thanks, you are the best! Let me know what you think of this one :)

Still do not own, still make not money.

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**Chapter 10: Divide and Conquer?**

The kid wearing the uniform didn't look much older than Jack. His eyes had a fear to them that felt familiar, but that didn't stop Bobby Mercer's fist from making contact with his nose, vibrating with a sickening crack as knuckles met bone and cartilage. The kid sprawled immediately while Bobby gave his throbbing hand a quick shake, ready to push past the next badge trying to block his forward motion towards the dark colored car driving away from the curb.

He could see Craig's eyes through the car window; he could tell the kid was losing it. He was screaming Bobby's name and struggling against the man holding onto him. He didn't like being touched. That was the thought that ran through Bobby's head at that moment; Craig didn't like being touched, and here these ass holes were, total strangers putting their hands on him, driving away with him; taking him to God only knew.

"Mercer, just give me a reason." The second cop reached for his gun and was ready to pull it out. He stepped in Bobby's path again, as the car he'd been trying to catch up to picked up speed and moved further down the street.

Bobby pulled his fist back and was about to bust a jaw when hands grabbed hold of him. "Bobby, Bobby, that's not gonna help!" Angel cried out from behind him.

Bobby was sure he saw the flash of handcuffs just out of the corner of his eye and he quickly pulled his body backwards, away from the attempted arrest he could feel was coming. As soon as he was out of range of the cop more hands grabbed at his arm.

Bobby gave his arm a jerk back from the hands reaching for him. He turned to discover it was Jeremiah intervening this time. "Get the fuck off of me Jerr'." He yelled and turned to look at the cars still gathered around the house.

His mind flashed a picture of their street the morning Jack had been shot and Craig had been stolen by Sweet's men, this felt too damn close to that morning. "Shit." He turned back to watch the retreating tail end of the car carrying his baby brother grow smaller in size as more distance was put between them. Without realizing it he managed to walk clear past the corner to stand in the street as he watched the car make a turn at the next intersection. "Shit." He sucked in a deep breath and started walking back towards Angel. "You got Bradford on the phone? You're talkin' to him?" He called out to Angel.

He could see more suits closing in on him and his remaining brothers. His heart was beating hard in his chest. His first instinct was to grab Jerry's keys, hijack his car and take off after Craig. Hell, they would get Jack out of jail, that wasn't going to be an issue. He didn't care how much it cost; he'd get the money to get him out of jail. The charges weren't going to stick, they couldn't. But Craig, once they had him locked down in the system it would be nearly impossible to get him back.

"Yeah, I do, and he said to stop your bullshit or he ain't gonna be able to do anything for us." Angel's voice was sharp enough to cut through the confusion that had dropped down over the whole scene like a blanket.

Bobby felt Jeremiah join him at his side, and the cop with the handcuffs was coming towards him again while other men assisted the kid lying on the ground.

"Mercer, you are under arrest for assaulting an officer of the law." The cop started to spout off Miranda rights, but was interrupted by another voice.

"I don't think so, patrolman." Johnson's voice called out from a new car that had arrived at the curb. He got out of the unmarked car and quickly moved towards Bobby. "I tried to get here as soon as I heard Harris was going to pull this shit." He called out.

Bobby felt his right fist tighten and was ready to take aim on Johnson. He needed to hit someone, or something. Hell, he was ready to take on every man grouping together in his front yard, "Come a little closer Johnson." He challenged him.

"I didn't know Bobby." Johnson spoke quickly, eyeing Bobby's fist as he came to a halt just out of reach of any strike. "I was at the hospital with Green, and I got the call. I'm sorry, I had no idea he was going to arrest Jack."

"Fine, get him out then." Bobby's voice came out hard. "And get Craig back while you're at it."

"Craig?" Johnson kept his gaze fixed on Bobby for a moment, then glanced at Angel and Jeremiah. "What?" He obviously felt as confused as the Mercers, but for different reasons.

"Craig, they took Craig." Jeremiah spoke quickly.

Angel continued his conversation on the phone while Bobby turned his full attention to Johnson. "What the hell is going on here Johnson? They arrested Jack. How in the fuck did that happen?" He yelled at the only person in his immediate presence that he could lash out at with validity.

"I didn't know about this Bobby." Johnson spoke quickly. "We will get Jack out; he'll be out in time to sleep in his own bed. Harris can't have anything substantial, not with Green's and my reports to back up your statements of what happened Saturday. What the hell are you talking about with Craig?"

"Ass holes from Children's Services showed up here with Harris, and while he arrested Jack, they took Craig!" Jeremiah informed the detective with a relatively calm voice.

Bobby's voice thundered out as his anger released. "They had fucking papers, and they just swooped in here and snatched him right out from under me! It's bad enough that I've had to fight tooth and nail to keep my family together for the past fucking month; scratching and clawing just to keep my brothers safe! I never thought I'd have to worry about the fucking cops or the government coming in here and ripping our lives apart, not after all the promises I got from Green and you!" He could feel the pressure building up in his gut, the promise he'd made to himself years ago, that promise to watch out for his brothers no matter what, was falling apart.

"We'll fix this Bobby; I promise you we will fix it." Johnson sounded and looked half worried. As he looked around at the men standing around the front yard of the Mercer house his worried expression turned to contempt.

"What the fuck Johnson, the FBI turned that sick shit loose and let him come after my family. Why the hell is that? What the hell is Harris up to? Why is my family a damn target for the FBI?" He tried to stop the words from coming out, but he couldn't hold it in. His family was disintegrating right before his eyes and he felt helpless to stop it. He'd come so close to losing all of his brothers too many times in the past month, enough was enough. It was going to end soon, and he was going to end it, one way or another.

"Bobby, man, just calm your ass down." Jeremiah spoke quickly while he looked around at the imposing law officials invading their space. "You don't want to draw all this attention." He kept his voice low, just at a level that Bobby could hear him when he leaned in closer towards him.

Bobby kept his hard stare fixed on Johnson, barely flicking his eyes to Jerry as an acknowledgment that he'd heard him and understood. "Tell me what the fuck is going on Johnson, or you're gonna be wiping more noses off the street." He made a quick motion to the younger uniformed officer who was being helped up to his feet, holding cupped hands over his bloody nose and moaning.

"I don't know; you have to give me some time." Johnson sucked in a deep breath. "You call your lawyer."

"I got Bradford on the phone now." Angel announced as he stepped closer. "He wants to know why all these fucking people are out here trampling over our mother's grass, making it all muddy and sickly." He turned and looked at the Johnson. "They got what the fuck they came for, get them out of here."

Johnson sighed and nodded his head. "Let me talk to them. I don't know what they're sticking around for." He turned and walked over to one of the suits and started talking quietly.

"Bobby, Robert says we should be able to get Jack out pretty easy. He's heading down to the station now." Angel closed his phone up. "He's going to make some calls about Craig too."

Bobby looked at Angel and then at Jeremiah. "What the fuck are these guys doing here?" He turned his attention back to the conversation taking place between Johnson and the man that he assumed was another FBI agent, since Johnson seemed to be guarded with him. "What do we have that Harris would think is important?"

"We ain't got shit." Angel shook his head as he followed Bobby's eyes. "Harris is taking a stab in the dark here."

"You guys did get rid of the guns, right?" Jeremiah spoke as the man Johnson had confronted pulled papers out of his coat pocket and held them up for Johnson to look at. "I have a feeling they're gonna search the house."

"Shit." Bobby muttered. He hadn't thought about the tote full of illegal weapons that he'd snagged from Stanley Miller's apartment. He hadn't given the tote one thought since he'd cleaned and put away the guns late Saturday night.

"The guns were moved a couple of days ago." Angel muttered quietly, raising an eyebrow towards Bobby as if he were expection questions as soon as the revelation was made. "I thought we should get them out of the house, just in case."

"What do you mean they were moved?" Bobby looked at Angel, half ready to crack his skull for making that move without talking to him about it, but thankful his brother had been thinking with the right head for a change. If the feds searched the house and had found that tote full of guns they would have all ended up behind bars and in a shitload of trouble. "Good thinking." He forced the words out as Johnson turned and headed back towards them.

"They have a search warrant." Johnson spoke as he neared them. He still made a point to stop just out of reach of Bobby's aim if the man should decide to take a swing.

"How the hell did they get a search warrant? Or an arrest warrant for Jack? You keep saying they don't have shit, but they must think they have something, or they wouldn't have the warrant, right?" Jeremiah spoke up before Bobby had a chance to.

"Look, we knew there was going to be an investigation, I just didn't expect Harris to go this far." Johnson held both hands up as if to surrender. "I wish I knew the answers, but I don't."

Bobby stood back and watched as the men started filing into his mother's house. "Hey, you better not tear shit up, you got that?" He yelled out to them. "That's my mother's house, you treat it with respect." He turned away. "Those sorry sons of bitches are going to tear it all to hell." He muttered and looked at Johnson. "You better get your ass in there and make sure nothing get's broken!"

Johnson sighed and turned away. "I'll do my best Bobby." He glanced at the uniformed officer still standing close by with his handcuffs gripped tightly. "Put those away, and don't even think about using them." He warned the man as he stepped past him and up the steps. The officer fidgeted with the cuffs for a moment and then slid them into their pouch on his belt. He was staying out there to keep an eye on the brothers, that was obvious, but he was just out of earshot, so long as the Mercers kept their voices quiet.

Bobby looked at his watch. It was a little after two o'clock. He wondered just how quickly Bradford would be able to get to the police station to work on busting Jack loose. "Shit, so much for coming up with a plan." He didn't bother to look at either of his brothers; he stared at the front door of the porch, listening for the sounds of the few precious items that had once belonged to his mother crashing about. He never heard the sounds he expected to, but he was sure he heard Johnson's voice a couple of different times. "I hate trying to react to shit all of the time. It's time to take action before the shit gets worse."

"How the hell do we do that Bobby?" Angel asked. "We have no idea what Harris is looking for, or why he's decided to target us. I mean let's face it, if Macks was working with Harris, he wasn't a snitch, Harris is a crooked agent, and that's going to be a little more difficult than taking down a dirty local cop."

Bobby understood the reference to both Fowler and Higgins, and he knew that Angel was right. It didn't matter to him though; they were going to take Harris down. Dirty cop, dirty FBI, it all amounted to the same thing, dirty authority making dirty money at the expense of innocent people like his own family. Okay, maybe him, Angel and Jeremiah weren't so innocent in the past, but Jack and Craig? He wasn't about to lose both of his little brothers, not after fighting so fucking hard to keep them both safe. "I don't know Angel. I figure if Macks had people feeding him information, he was working both sides. We know who he had covering his ass in the FBI, that's easy, I say we find out who he was working with on the other end and what the fuck he was up to." Bobby finally turned to face both of his brothers. "So, we got contacts on the street, right? I'm sure someone knows shit somewhere."

"I got contacts, you ain't got shit." Angel kept his voice and eyes leveled at Bobby.

"I got a few people who might be able to ask around." Jeremiah nodded his head. "Evan and Charlie might know who we can talk to, hell they were trapped in Sweet's organization long enough to know names."

"Yeah, and we need to warn Johnny G. If they are coming after us like this, they are gonna take aim on him too, and that could really turn into a mess, what with that sawed-off he keeps behind the bar." Bobby nodded his head. "He might have heard something too; you know how his customers like to talk."

"He would have called." Jeremiah commented.

"No he wouldn't. He knows how to keep his defenses up, and he wouldn't jump on the phone, he'd wait for us to go to him. No news is worth sharing if it can't be done face to face, or so he's told me before." Bobby reminded Jerry of Johnny's way. The man wouldn't run after anyone, no matter how much he liked or disliked them, he'd wait until they came to him. If someone was watching Johnny to see how closely he was involved in shit, they would jump on him the second he reached out and made contact. Bobby knew he had to make that move, and it wasn't going to be at the bar.

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Jack didn't say a word. Not one single word the entire ride to the police station. He thought at first that he was going to be taken to the FBI satellite office in Detroit, but Harris told him he was going to be booked into county lock up and held separately from the other inmates. Those words were intended to make him nervous, he could tell by the tone Harris used. Hell it wasn't like he'd never spent a night in jail before, and being held separately was definitely a plus; Harris should have known that. Not that he was looking forward to any time behind bars, but being separated from the drunks and druggies was a small consolation. He could deal with being locked up for a few hours, so long as he didn't have to deal with the shit that usually came with it. Bobby had said they would get him out, and he had faith in his brothers.

Harris talked the whole ride, and Jack tried to remember each and every word, sure that something the man said might come in handy later, when he was telling his brothers all about the experience of being locked in a car with the man.

"I just want to get to the truth here Jack. I need to know what the hell happened on New Years. I need to know every last detail. Your statement didn't make sense to me. There were too many questions raised as to the reasons your entire family was in that cemetery with a man you all claimed was coming after you. I mean, come on, you all admitted that you arrived in separate cars. Craig's statement was too vague. Far too vague to tie up any loose ends, and by not allowing me to question him, your brother has hung your ass out to dry. Can you understand that at all Jack? Your brothers have sacrificed you, and the only way you're going to get out of this is to tell me the truth." Harris' tone was void of any human emotion. He sounded like a robot repeating words that had been programmed into that tiny little chip in his head.

Jack kept his gaze fixed forward, not looking at anything in particular, just forward, his mind bringing up pictures of that morning in the cemetery. The morning he'd picked up a gun and aimed it at a man. No, he wasn't proud of what he'd done, no matter how badly he'd wanted Macks out of the way. He had wanted him dead, deep down, as payment for all of the pain he'd caused Craig and him, and his entire family. Adam Macks had played a part in attacking the foundations of his family, bombarding the foundations that kept them connected and stable. In the end Evelyn Mercer had built unbreakable bonds between her sons that no one would ever be able to rip apart.

No, he wasn't proud of himself for taking another life, no matter how evil that man had been, or the shit he'd done to the Mercer family over the period of five years or more, but he damn sure wasn't sorry, and he damn sure had no fears of his brothers abandoning him. At one time, maybe he would have feared being left to fend for himself, but not now. His family would never do that, they had proved that to him too many times in the past, keeping his head above water when he was drowning in his own fears and self loathing. Harris' actions and words were a desperate attempt to drive a wedge into his family roots and rip them clean from one another.

It dawned on him that Harris was using a tactic that Bobby had often employed back in the day. Separate the opposition, make them weaker by decreasing their numbers and getting them to say and do what he wanted. Well it wasn't going to work on Jack Mercer. Hell no. When he didn't react to Harris' words the man scoffed at him and shook his head, laughing mockingly. "Have it your way Jack. If you won't talk to me, I'm sure I know a Mercer who will." He remained silent the remainder of the ride downtown.

Harris let two of the local uniforms take Jack from the car when they reached the back side of the police house. "Get him booked." He spoke to one of them quietly, but Jack could still hear his words. "I'm heading down to the courthouse. That's where I told them to hold the boy until I arrived. St. Vincent's will be receiving him by evening if anyone should ask, and I will be accompanying him. I'll get my time with him one way or another, fuck the Mercers." He turned and walked away without another look or word in Jack's direction.

Shit, Jack understood this better now. Harris was separating them to get at Craig, not him. He was just using Jack as a way of dividing the Mercers' focus. Damn, that son of a bitch for messing with a little kid to get whatever the hell he wanted. A little kid that had already been through hell and Harris was ready to put him through more. He wondered just how long Harris had before Bobby managed to kill him.

He let a smirk play across his face as Harris' back moved away from him. He thought about Bobby's reaction to his baby brother being dragged off by force. His brother was going to take out someone for that, and Harris seemed to be the prime candidate. Apparently Agent Harris hadn't check the status of the last two dirty cops the Mercers had encountered. Sure, Harris may have been a Fed, but he was still dirty and that just wasn't going to work in his favor.


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry for the delay, this one just wasn't as easy to write as I thought it would be :) Thanks to all for reading and special thanks to all who review! Let me know what you think, please?

Do not own, make no money.

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**Chapter 11: William And Joe**

Craig felt the fight drain out of him as the car turned a corner and the roof of the Mercer house finally disappeared. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window next to him and wiped at the tears that had slipped down his cheek. He didn't know the people he was trapped with, and he didn't trust what was happening. His body shivered under his sweat shirt, but the car was warm. The fears that had overwhelmed him just after his mother died seemed to bite into his insides now, seeping into his legs and arms, making them feel like dead weight hanging off of him.

"My name is William Frustum." The man sitting next to Craig in the back of the car spoke calmly. "You're Craig, right?" He was trying to act casual, as if the situation they were in at that moment was normal, and well rehearsed. "How old are you Craig, twelve or thirteen?"

Craig knew he should be pissed at the remark but an aching was taking hold of him, one that he was familiar with, but still seemed odd to him. He wanted Bobby. This jerk didn't know how old he was, and from what Craig could remember he was talking in the same tone as his first caseworker, as if he were a stupid, small child with no concept of what was going on around him.

He turned away from William Fuckup and looked out the window of the car. It felt as if someone had slammed a bolder into his chest. He sucked in hard for some air and considered trying to open the door and jump, but he could see the lock had been engaged and was sure it was disabled so that he couldn't make that move.

"Thirteen I'll bet." William was digging himself in deeper. "Did your father give you those bruises son?" He asked the question, despite the fact that he had to know Craig wasn't going to talk to him. "It's against the law for a father to hit his son like that. No matter what your dad might have told you. You don't deserve to be hit like that." He went on, more words, more stupid, ignorant remarks about how his home life was obviously unhealthy and it was in his best interest to co-operate with them now, and they would make sure he wasn't hurt anymore. William went on about how Craig needed to tell them everything his father was doing to him, so they could get him and his father both some help. It sounded absurd. He didn't know about Craig's father, or the struggle that had led up to this very moment. The asshole obviously didn't know anything about Craig's history, or what was going on with his family. Someone had called this jerk and sent him down to pick up some kid for whatever trumped up excuse he could think of. Someone told him he was being abused in his home.

Craig wanted to tell this guy the mistake he was making. He wanted to tell him just how wrong he was, but there was no way Craig could talk to anyone about what had happened to him in the past several weeks, hell, he hadn't been able to talk to his own brothers without some kind of dramatc scene playing out. If he could make himself tell this man just the facts, maybe, just maybe they would see that what they were doing was wrong, that he needed to be home, with his brothers. Maybe the whole mess could be straightened out if he just told the facts.

There was quiet for a short few minutes, and then another voice boomed from the driver's seat. "You'll be fine young man. You will thank Agent Harris by the time this is over, for getting you out of such an unhealthy environment. Lord knows how much longer you would have lasted in that home." The man's voice was icy and cold.

Craig's young mind seemed to be sucked back in time, to his first experience with the case workers and the system he'd been dumped into back when he was six years old. His first foster home, and the fear he'd felt there flashed through his mind with sharp lines and vivid colors. The crowded bedroom and rules that no small child could possibly follow seemed to press in on him. The caseworker who stopped by and ignored the obvious abuse his first foster father had dealt out when one small sound was made, or the slightest movement slipped out. He'd learned quickly that he wasn't wanted anywhere, not really. He had been nothing but free money and any inconvenience that he might cause by actually having any needs was quickly dealt with by a sharp blow; his case worker didn't want to be bothered with the finer details of the situation she'd dumped the boy in, she was satisfied just knowing that the kid was in a home and not an issue to deal with on a daily basis.

These men in this car were no different than that first caseworker. Maybe it wasn't entirely their fault. It was a job for them and nothing more. The well rehearsed words and tone of voice that William let spill so casually sounded the same as too many others he'd heard when he was little, especially when he was in St. Vincent's. It must have been a part of the training they went through.

He remembered his mother complaining in recent years that she had new co-workers that seemed to be carbon copies of each other. They all used the same talk and the same voice when they spoke to their charges. The youngsters they were supposed to be looking out for seemed to be nothing more than a number to them, and they didn't care about how they had ended up where they were. She said it seemed they wanted to deal with the children as little as possible. It pissed her off and she was getting tired of it.

So here he was now, just another kid they thought needed to be written off as a lost cause, and no matter how much of the truth he tried to relay to them, their ears would shut him out. He wanted to scream out or hit something. He wanted to do something, anything, but his body was stiff and rigid, he could only sit there and stare out the window while panic grew inside, chilling him so that he shivered, yet raising a heat from somewhere deep inside enough that sweat coated him from head to toe.

"Leave him be Jim." William spoke calmly. "This is hard on him, we know that." Again, he used that tone that dripped with pity for the fourteen year old sitting next to him in the back seat, not that he knew he was fourteen. He knew nothing about Craig, or his family, or his life. He was a bigger asshole then Jim, whoever the hell Jim in the front seat might be. At least Jim didn't pretend to care about anything that was going on; his voice had given that away. He thought this was just a job, and whatever they did was earning a paycheck, screw the fact that it was hurting someone.

"Come on Craig, relax, it's not as bad as it seems. I promise you that." William continued talking. "I've dealt with a lot of kids in the system and I promise I will make sure you are placed in a safe home."

That statement seemed to explode inside Craig's head. Placed in a safe home? Who the hell did he think he was? He was accusing his brothers of hitting on him, and not taking care of him, when the truth was Bobby had been nothing but good to him.

Okay, Bobby spanked him sometimes, he'd spanked him that very day, but he only did that if Craig pushed him to it, and for some reason Craig just seemed to feel the need to push him, despite knowing that his brother would eventually break. It didn't matter to him; Bobby wasn't hurting him when that happened. It wasn't as if he was raising a fist to him, or breaking bones or putting bruises on him. He acted as if he didn't want or like spanking him either. The two of them were still learning how to deal with each other; Craig knew that, he could understand it because of the conflict that seemed to rage inside of him so often. At least Bobby knew he was there and cared enough to do something, even if it was difficult for both of them.

Bobby wasn't used to being a parent, he was used to being a brother, and his brothers fought with each other all of the time. Smacking at each other and hitting. It was strange making a transition like the one that had taken place between him and his oldest brother. No matter what though, Bobby made him feel safe, and he had come for him, he'd killed Sweet to get him back, and he'd come after him when Adam had stolen his freedom. Bobby had cared enough to come for him more than once, and he still hadn't talked about leaving town, leaving Craig behind like he'd feared. It was starting to look like he'd planned on sticking around and maybe being a father. Yes, Craig knew Bobby was more than just his brother. Bobby had told him he was his father; he wanted to be his father. He wanted him, period, and it felt good to feel wanted, to feel as if he had a parent. He wanted his father at that moment.

"Craig, you haven't been in school for over a month now. That's a problem. You have been in the hospital as well, with injuries that are very suspicious." William had been talking the whole time, but these words caught the boy's ears and his attention. "Can you talk to us about what has been going on? There will be formal charges brought against whoever it is that has done this to you, but you have to be honest with us. We can get you help, and maybe get some help for your father as well."

Craig felt confused. They knew he hadn't been in school, they knew he'd been in the hospital, and what had been wrong with him, but they didn't know the details on how he had gotten there? It didn't make any sense. They had to have talked to people to know that much, or seen files from the police, or the hospital, or even maybe the District Attorney's office.

They had to know that what had happened to him had nothing to do with his brothers, but rather a result of Adam Mack's warped sense of right and wrong. It was their job to find out the facts, that's what his mother had always done. What did they do, talk to his doctor and only listen to part of what he said? Did they bother talking to the police at all? Was it possible that they were so irresponsible that they'd take one man's word over any of the facts? They came to their own conclusions what the problem was, and how he'd ended up with the kind of injuries he did wasn't important to them. If that wasn't important then they wouldn't bother listening to him no matter what he said.

Craig shook his head slowly. "I'm not talking to you." He turned away from William. He needed Bobby. He didn't know what he was supposed to do right then. Usually he would just keep his mouth shut but it seemed the meds were melting away the remainder of the numbness that had engulfed him the past few days. The little bit that remained, the left over defenses that he'd managed to tuck away in the back of his conscious brain, were crumbling. He felt tears stinging at his the back of eyes, the feeling of falling seemed overwhelming and he thought he was going to throw up. "I want to go home."

"You are not going to be going back there for a very long time Craig…" William started in again, but a buzzing started to hum in Craig's ears, blocking out the words. The boy wiped the fresh tears falling now and turned further away from the man next to him. William continued talking, but the words were faint against that buzzing. He lifted his eyes and watched as the buildings on the street slipped past him, flashes of color blurred by tears. His brain started screaming at him from the inside. "I want my brothers." He barely got the words out through the stress building in his throat. "I want to go home."

William went on talking as if he hadn't heard the words. Craig watched as the residential neighborhood gave way to the throughways leading downtown. He watches as the homes morphed into small shops and stores before the structures started growing into multi-story office buildings lining the streets. Parking garages tucked in between skyscrapers; blacktop and concrete bedding walls of green luminous glass looming above him casting reflections off of each other.

Craig's vision seemed to cloud around the edges as the car pulled into the entrance of an unfamiliar parking garage. It didn't feel right, he knew that. This was not the right place. This was not the offices of Social Services. This was not where his mother had worked. This was a courthouse, and not one that he'd ever been too before. He felt his body stiffen up. Where were they taking him?

Jim parked the car on an upper level, where the daylight seemed to be blocked out by empty, cold cement that stretched out forever. The doors unlocked and the engine died. Craig could hear his own breathing, hard and quick. William got out of the car on his side as Jim climbed out of the front. Both met just outside of the door next to Craig, who shrank towards the interior of the car as it opened slowly; he didn't look up at either of the men but he felt them there, looking in at him.

"Come on Craig; don't make this harder than it has to be, please? Get out of the car and we can get inside, where it's warm. Are you hungry? We can order some pizza, how does that sound?" William was still using that hollow sound of pity that was so well practiced.

Craig fixed his eyes on the door on the other side of the seat. He wondered if he could be quick enough to make it out the other door before the men caught hold of him. Maybe he could make a run for it, the only problem was the direction he'd be running would take him deeper into the parking garage, and he was sure William and Jim would catch him. He felt as if his muscles were moving too slow, as if his mind was stuck in slow motion, and that would hinder his attempt at escape. The idea of going inside the courthouse left him with the feeling he was being locked away somewhere and it frightened him more than anything else. He'd expected the office where Evelyn had worked, he'd been there before, it was a familiar place, and there was bound to be familiar people there. He was surprised these men didn't know about his mother, or him. It was possible they were out of another office, most likely that was the case or Craig would have known them, he was certain.

"We don't have time for this." Jim reached in, grabbed hold of Craig's left arm and pulled.

Craig's muscles stiffened up and he tried to pull free of the grasp pulling him towards the open door. It did not good. He was on his feet, with both men gripping onto his arms in a matter of seconds. He didn't try to pull away; he knew it would do no good. They pulled him across the concrete, their steps echoing off the vast emptiness surrounding them. Craig half wondered why there were no other cars, no people anywhere.

They entered an elevator at the end of the garage. Once the elevator door closed the air seemed to stale and a hit of mold hung thick in the air. Craig felt his breathing hitch slightly as his chest twisted around more tears. His vision blurred with more tears as the doors opened and he was pulled through them quickly. Jim let go of his left arm, but William still held on tight. They walked down a long empty hall way, the tile under their feet sent out a series of thuds that bounced against the paneled walls differently than the echoes in the garage. The sounds were flat and soft.

Jim opened a door to their left and held it open for William to push Craig through into a small office with a reception window on the wall furthest from the door, a heavy looking steel security door with no handle visible loomed next to the window, looking menacing to the fourteen year old who suddenly felt as if he were about to disappear from the rest of the world. Why would Children's Services bring him to a place like this? He wasn't being arrested, was he? That's what it was starting to feel like. He was being arrested and was going to end up in Juvi and he hadn't done anything wrong.

William pulled him to stand next to the door with no handle while Jim walked up to the glass and flashed an I.D. at the woman on the other side. Not a word was spoken, but a loud electrical buzz sounded and the door moved open, inward. William pulled Craig through into a hallway of concrete floor painted green with a cement block wall. Doors lined them on both sides. William stopped at one about halfway down the hall and pushed it open. Craig recognized the kind of room he was in. A table set in the middle with metal folding chairs lining both sides. A large mirror ran along one wall, and that was all that was there. William pulled a chair away from the table and dropped Craig into it not so gently. Craig felt his arms cross his stomach and hug tight. He shivered from the chill in the room.

"Do you want some pizza?" William still used the calm, condescending voice, but his actions looked mechanical, "How about a soda?"

Craig didn't answer. His eyes found the edge of the table top and took in the sight of the scratches and nicks that marked the surface. He felt more tears falling and couldn't stop the sob that escaped.

"It's okay Craig." William sat down next to him and looked at Jim. "Why don't you go get him a soda?" He asked.

Jim stood in the open door and sighed. "Yeah, sure, I'll do that. I'll get the files too and we can get started." He sounded pissed about something.

"Why don't you calm down Jim? This is going to be a long day, and we may as well make it as easy on him as we can, right?" William kept his body turned towards the door. "Just get him the soda please?"

Jim walked out without saying another word, pulling the door closed hard behind him. The loud crack of the metal door hitting the frame caused Craig to flinch slightly.

Craig's mind was starting to play the game again. He'd seen Jack being arrested. What if all of his brothers had been arrested? What if they were all going to jail and he was going to be put in Juvenile Detention and he'd never see any of them again? What if he was taken far away and put into foster care again, or locked up at St. Vincent's like he had been when he was little.

"Where's my brother Bobby?" He asked the question before he realized it. He didn't peal his concentration off of the table to look at William.

"Craig, you are not going home, at least not until you have talked to us and told us what has been going on there. Where are your parents?" William asked.

Craig shook his head. "Why don't you look that up in my file?" He asked.

"What file?" William asked.

"You are the dumbest son of a bitch I have ever met." Craig muttered. "Go fuck yourself." His mind was ping ponging back and forth from anger and dread and other indescribable states in between. His lungs seemed to be fighting to breathe. "Where the hell is my brother?"

"He's not coming for you. He doesn't know where you are and he's not going to be told. Not until we figure out what is going on." William let down his façade and a hint of loathing seeped out with his words.

Craig felt his blood freeze instantly inside his veins. He was being punished for being born. He knew it. It was what his father had done for years, and now he wasn't there, so someone else had to take on that task. His eyes flicked up to the mirror on the wall and he looked at his reflection. His life was never going to be normal. He was never going to be with his family again, and he was always going to be alone.


	12. Chapter 12

I was hoping to get this up last night, but it didn't work out :) To everyone who reviewed, thanks so much! You guys are the best, and I appreciate every one of you! Let me know what you think of this one :)

Still don't own, still make no money.

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**Chapter 12: Evidence**

Bobby walked into the living room of the house and stared at the desk drawers that were laid out on the couch. The contents of them covered the coffee table and floor in that immediate area. What was left of Evelyn's candles and knick-knacks were piled up in the chairs and the stand that held the television had been emptied as well, the games from the system tossed half-hazard on the floor along with the papers and manual that had come with it.

He walked across the floor to find the dining room in the same state; the photos had been pulled down from their places and piled on the table along with the remains of the good set of china his mother had always stored in the cabinet lining the wall. It had been partly destroyed in the shootout when Sweet's men showed up, but what was left had been stored back in its original place when they cleaned up. The hospital bed that Jack no longer used had been stripped, the mattress pulled off its foundation and left leaning against the table, the blankets strewn about the floor and the pillow lodged back in the corner on the other side of the bed frame.

Jeremiah and Angel had taken the kitchen route and he could hear Angel whistle in a quiet manner from the other side of the doorway.

"Man, what the hell did they think they were looking for?" Angel finally spoke. Frustration seemed to echo in his words. "Why the hell did they need to empty all of the cupboards?"

Bobby stepped over to the doorway and looked in at the dishes and food items that had been emptied onto the counter. The table held the food from the refrigerator and the pots and pans had been scattered on the tile in front of the bottom cupboard where they were normally stored. "Hell, at least nothing is broken, so far." He muttered the words despite the desire to yell.

"If they did this down here I'm afraid to look upstairs." Jeremiah's voice mirrored Bobby's, with agitation and surprise, one weaved around the other. "I thought Johnson was supposed to keep them from tearing shit up."

"I did." Johnson spoke from the doorway behind Angel and Jeremiah. All three men shifted their attention to him. "I'm sorry; I did the best I could. They swarmed over this place, I tried…" He looked at Bobby. "At least nothing is broken. I made sure of that." He looked almost as pissed as Bobby felt.

"They walked out of here with some boxes, what the hell did they take?" Bobby's voice sounded flat against the mess surrounding them. He'd forgotten Johnson hadn't left with the black suits carrying boxes out of their front door. The man had some backbone, sticking around when he had to know he was the only one close enough that Bobby could consider beating the shit out of. He felt his fists both tighten up, aching to for that sensation of striking into another nose, or a jaw.

Johnson looked as if he were going to get sick to his stomach. "I'm not sure about everything they boxed up. I know there were some papers, they looked important, I think they came out of one of the rooms upstairs. They carried somethings out of Jack's room, I think." He sucked in a deep breath. "And some of Craig's clothes," The last part of his statement was almost choked off.

Bobby felt the sensation like a cold, hard knife blade piercing his chest. Craig's clothes; that meant they weren't planning on turning him back over anytime soon. "What about Jack? What the hell are they doing with him?" He had to know what he was dealing with, all of it. "His shot may not have killed Macks. We all know that, and even if it did, he was defending me and Craig. Macks was holding a gun on me, he'd been beating the shit out of Craig; you know that, hell you seen the bruises and the blood."

"I do know that. The problem is I was not there to witness the whole thing Bobby. I was busy with Jordan. And that sorry son of a bitch is trying to make some kind of deal now. Harris has talked to him and I'm not sure what all he has told him, but it was enough that Harris is on some kind of witch hunt." Johnson pulled out his cell phone. "I'm calling Green. I think you need to check upstairs, see what all is missing, if you can figure that out it may help us narrow down Harris' intentions." He looked at Bobby before hitting any buttons on the phone. "Don't worry, we'll have Jack home before this evening, I already told you that. Green was going to make a few calls to a judge, and see what he could do about that."

"What about Craig?" Angel asked with a voice stiff and quiet as he gave a sauce pan at his feet a slight tap with the toe of his shoe.

"I need to let Green know about Craig. We weren't expecting anyone to remove him from the home and to be honest the manner in which it was done goes against all policy." Johnson commented.

"No shit, really, like we don't already know that." Bobby felt the anger release in his words.

"The one guy showed me papers, but he didn't give me any of them, and they did show I.D., they were from Social Services, but it looked different than Ma's did, they weren't from the same office, or branch." Jeremiah remarked, looking at Bobby.

"Getting Craig back may be trickier than busting Jack loose from a jail cell. Don't worry though, we'll find out where he is." Johnson finally hit a button on his phone and lifted it to his ear. "Go check upstairs, see what is missing. If you had any kind of legal documents, from Craig's custody issue, or anything that would pertain to Jack, you should check those, pinpoint what they might have taken."

"They can't take any legal papers, can they? That's…" Jeremiah started his remark, but Johnson looked at him and cut off his words.

"Nothing Harris is doing is by the book Jeremiah. I don't know what he's after, but those men had papers in that box." Johnson was about to say something else, but he returned his attention to the phone held up to his ear. "Green, it's me." He spoke quickly and turned to face the kitchen sink. "Yeah, I've got an update, and you ain't gonna like it." He started spouting off details of what had taken place at the Mercer home.

Bobby watched him, and half listened while his mind clicked off the papers he was sure was upstairs in the top drawer of his mother's dresser. He'd put Jack's adoption papers in the drawer along with Craig's, Craig's custody papers, the hospital bills and insurance papers. A force seemed to pull him towards the foyer. He moved up the stairs with Jeremiah and Angel behind him.

His heart started racing as he realized Craig's papers had contained other documents that he had yet to examine too closely. Papers that documented his father's abuse and the attempt that he'd made at taking his own sons life the same night he had murdered his wife. Court transcripts that his mother had kept with the rest of Craig's papers that listed his injuries at the time he'd entered foster care, and the psychological evaluations of his state of mind that had been transcribed to be used as evidence in the state's case against Adam Macks.

Bobby had barely had time to skim over the papers that had been stored in his mother's safe deposit box. He'd planned on sitting down and going through them all thoroughly as soon as he had the opportunity, but that chance had never come. So much shit had gone down since the day him and his brothers had met Robert Bradford for the first time, to receive the contents of that box.

He found his mother's room had been left in the same condition as the downstairs. The dresser drawers had been removed from their place and were resting side by side in a straight line across the floor at the foot of the bed. Bobby recognized the drawer that had held the documents in question, and nearly growled with frustration when he realized the only papers left were Jack's.

His right foot kicked out against the drawer, sending it across the floor to crack hard into the wall just under the window. "Son of bitch!" He yelled the words and turned towards the wall, raising his fist, ready to slam it hard into the drywall.

"What the hell was that for?" Jeremiah spoke from the doorway.

Bobby's body spun and turned just short of his fist busting a hole in the wall, and he let his arm drop to his side as he faced his brother. "They took all of Craig's papers. All of them." He reached up and pushed his palms into his face, giving it a hard a scrub before allowing them to drop at his side. "Shit Jerr', what do they want? It doesn't make sense." He wanted to yell and still felt a need to hit something, but at some point in the recent weeks, some kind of control had implanted into his brain and he was holding back on his urges; he hated it, but he needed to reserve the urge for the right moment, when it was going to count for something.

"I don't know, but let's find out. I say we catch up with Harris and confront him straight up." Jeremiah sounded calm, despite the fire sparking behind his eyes.

"I vote we get some information, just like we were talking about. There has to be someone out there who knows more about what Macks was playin'. Hell, we just have to find the right person." Angel stepped up behind Jeremiah. "My room is tore to hell, so it Craig's." He informed.

"Yeah, Jack's room, well, hell, it looks the same as it always does, but his guitar was layin' on the floor, so…" Jeremiah sighed. "I can't tell if anything is gone."

Bobby shook his head and pushed his way past his brothers. He stepped up to Jack's bedroom door and looked in. The guitar was lying on the floor in front of the dresser. He stepped over and picked it up carefully. He turned and placed it on the bed, treating it the same as he'd seen Jack, gently; before looking around the rest of the room. He tried to remember what the room looked like the last time he'd been in it, but that was Saturday, or maybe Sunday. He never paid much attention to Jack's room before, not enough to have any idea what might be missing. Hell, the kid tossed clothes in heaps on the floor as he pealed them off of him at the end of each day, and his clean clothes rarely made it into his dresser, but were normally piled up on the top of that particular piece of furniture, half folded with wrinkles invading the fabrics. Clothes. The shirt and jeans Jack had worn on Saturday had been tossed onto the back of the chair in the corner.

Bobby turned to the chair and held his breath. The clothes were gone. Jack hadn't washed them. He hadn't wanted to touch them and they had stayed on that chair. Bobby remembered the talk he'd had with Jack late on Sunday. His little brother had been struggling with the fact that he'd shot a man and Bobby had found him in his room muttering to himself, tears clouding his eyes and his mind.

Okay, it was Macks, and Jack had admitted that part of him hoped it was his actions that had killed the man, but another part of him was struggling with the conflict. He'd always hated guns, always hated what they could do to a person, something he'd witness first hand when he was far too young. He hadn't wanted to touch any firearm, or be around them because of the traumatic experience from his earlier years. Bobby had made him learn despite that, he'd wanted him know how to handle a weapon to defend himself, just in case.

Jack was battling guilt, and memories and Bobby had let him go on for nearly an hour while he stared down the clothes. He was going to burn them, as soon as he had the time. He wanted to burn the clothes, some illogical notion that the threads of cotton and denim erupting in flames could somehow cleanse his soul of the act of ending a life; as if essence, drifting away in clouds of dark smoke would somehow lift the burden he was carrying. He'd planned it all out. "They took evidence from Saturday." He muttered.

"What evidence?" Angel asked from behind him.

"The clothes he was wearing on Saturday." Bobby muttered.

"The clothes he was wearing, hell, did he wash them at least?" Angel asked.

"No." Bobby shook his head without looking back. "No, he didn't wash them." He knew why Angel was asking. If Jack had at least washed the shit then the clothes wouldn't be much use. Any evidence the cops could twist around would have been compromised at least if he'd washed them; worse yet, the cops could plant something, and because they hadn't been washed there was no way to dispute it.

"Okay, but the cops already know what happened when Macks died. Hell, half the police force was in that cemetery that day." Jeremiah spoke quickly. "Let's not think the worst, not yet."

"The worst Jerr'?" Bobby still didn't turn to face his brothers. "You do know what the hell is going on here now, right? You ain't got so fuckin' far from your roots that you can't see it. They are gonna set Jack up and make sure he's pinned with Mack's murder, no matter how much proof we got that Macks was after us."

"Then let's get to work big brother. We got some doors to knock on." Angel spoke quickly. "Let's get out there do some knocking instead of standing around here like a bunch of dicks stuck up Harris' ass."

Bobby turned, finally. "Yeah, let's do that." He watched Angel turn and walk away from the door. He gave Jeremiah one of his agitated stares, until he turned and followed Angel. Bobby stepped to the door and looked back into Jack's room one last time. No one was coming into their home and fucking around again, he didn't care if there were warrants or guns. He was getting tired of the shit and he was putting an end to it.

* * *

Jack sat on the dirty mattress that lined the wall of the cell. He'd asked about seeing his lawyer, but no one was talking to him. He could only sit and wait. He hadn't been taken to any rooms for questioning, though that's what he'd expected. Instead he'd been booked, subjected to a humiliating search before a quick cold shower, and the handed one of the county's bright orange jumpsuits to wear. The cell was hollow, and though it gave a chill down to his bones, the inside was stale and hot. He could hear other inmates talking from a distance, but he couldn't see anyone. He was in a holding cell usually reserved for those unlucky souls being transferred out of the county lock up to a more secure facility. He wondered if they were planning moving him, or if they were keeping him separated from the rest of the jail population, as Harris had said they would. He was thankful to be to himself, it felt less threatening to him. His watch had been taken from him along with all other personal items and he had no idea what time it was or how long he'd been sitting there. His back ached to lean against the wall, but there seemed to be slimy substance coating it in spots and he was afraid of coming into contact with it. He didn't want to lie on the mattress for fear of what was on it. There were no sheets or clean blankets to place between him and the bedbugs that his mind had conjured up to infest the bedding.

He hadn't expected to be arrested, despite the events of that morning. Somehow he had avoided facing the real possibility of it by pushing it to the back of his mind, concentrating on what was happening with Craig, and somehow believing that if they did come for him that Bobby would be able to stop it from happening. Shit, he was still expecting Bobby to fix everything for him, and he had to stop.

Bobby couldn't fix this, no matter how badly he might try. Part of him was reasoning that he deserved this. He'd shot a man, may have taken a life and it made him feel like hell knowing that. He deserved to have to answer to someone for that. Macks should have gone to jail, should have stood trial for what he'd done, no matter how much the Mercers hated him. The only thing that had gotten him through the past few days was the chance that it wasn't his shot that had ended Adam Macks' life, but being torn to shreds by the car when it ran him over. The man's body had been picked up in pieces, different parts of him placed in different plastic totes and a body bag. If he didn't kill Macks, he had rendered him unable to move out of the way of the car. That part did bother him.

Bobby and Craig walked away though, so it was worth it. That's what he kept telling himself. Macks didn't have the chance to put a bullet into Bobby's head and his brothers were all alive. His brain had been battling back and forth between guilt and satisfaction for three days, and now, sitting in a jail cell seemed to tilt the mental image of scales in favor of his actions being wrong. That allowed his guilt to grow and fester in the hot quiet surrounding him.

His left thumb had found its way to his mouth a few times, his teeth habitually gnawed at the nail until it was down to the quick, and then moved to the skin at the edge, chewing it raw. He jumped when a loud clank signaled the barred door at the end of the hall had been opened. Since he could see no other cell, or door in the area he stood quickly, hoping someone was coming to give him some kind of information.

The officer that came to his cell door looked void of any emotion, in fact, he acted as if he were bored. He used a key to unlock the door and looked at Jack. "Your lawyer is here to see you. Step out of the cell and face the wall." He pulled handcuffs off of his belt and held them up.

Jack stepped out of the cell and obeyed the order, faced the wall next to his cell and held his hands in place behind him so the man could confine them there. The cold metal clamped tight around his wrists, pinching at his skin. He expected to be led to the door at the end of the hall, but instead his guard pushed him hard from behind, slamming him into the wall.

The man's body pressed against his from behind, his face just out of his sight on his left hand side, but his mouth was there, right at his ear. "You try anything with me you son of a bitch and I'll make you regret it."

Jack felt a tremble hit his stomach. "No, sir, I will not try anything." He heard the uneven tone of his voice.

"I knew Higgins, and I knew him well. I don't take kindly to one our own being gunned down in the street. I say you had something to do with that." The cop sounded threatening. "You watch yourself with me boy, I won't put up with shit from you. Remember that." He pulled back quickly when another voice called from just out of view.

"Come on Paul, let's get going." The voice sounded impatient.

"Coming," Paul, Jack's guard called back. He took a hold of Jack's left arm and pulled him up the hall without saying another word.

Jack held his breath as they made their way through the corridors, to what he prayed was Robert Bradford waiting for him. Robert might have some good news for him, it was possible, right?


	13. Chapter 13

To everyone who reviews, thank you, it means a lot :) Let me know what you think, and thanks as always for reading! Hope you enjoy!

Do not own, make no money.

* * *

**Chapter 13: Revelations**

"I'm sure you're confused, and you must be terrified right now, but we are concerned about you. That's what this is about. You have to understand that. It's our job to…" William was rambling on from the chair next to Craig, but the boy was trying hard to block him out.

He dropped his arms on the table in front of him and put his face down, cradling it just above the surface of the table. The wood finish had a smell to it like disinfectant that stung at his nose. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to imagine Bobby sitting on the other side of the table. He wanted to hear his brother's voice, telling him he was going to fix everything, but he knew, deep inside that he probably wasn't going to see Bobby again, ever.

They were going to arrest his brothers and lock them away. His fears were growing by the second, and with the medication in his system he couldn't block any of it out. He could feel all of the emotions stirring around; churning like a storm, ready to let loose a destructive force, powerful enough to leave a path of nothing behind him by the time it was over.

He wanted to tell William to shut up. He wanted to find something to break, something to strike out at and William was quickly becoming that something. If Bobby were there, he'd tell him to get it all out. He'd let him scream, or cry but he'd help him do it. He show him how to get it out so that it wasn't eating him up inside.

The door opened and closed loudly. When Craig looked up he realized Jim had returned with a can of soda and a thick looking leather brief case. He set the can on the table in front of Craig and took a seat opposite of Craig. "Let's get started." He spoke with no hint of emotion in his voice.

Craig sat back in his chair and was surprised to find more tears had fallen down his cheek. He wiped at them quickly before hugging his arms to his stomach. "Where are my brothers?" He asked quickly.

"Craig, don't make this harder than it has to be. We need to know about your father." Joe started emptying files and papers from the case, looking at them each closely before laying them out in a straight line. "You will not be permitted to see your brothers, for your own good." He looked at William once the files had been laid out in the middle of the table.

"We need to wait." William spoke quickly. "He said he wanted to be here."

"Screw him, we have a job to do, we're going to do it." Joe reached back to the case and pulled out a paper tablet. He dropped a ballpoint pen on top of it before he slid it across the table to leave it in front of Craig. "I want you to start writing out a statement. You need to tell us what happened in the cemetery this past Saturday, January the first." Joe grabbed the first file in his neat line and pulled it directly in front of him.

Craig didn't move. He didn't understand how this had turned into questions about Saturday.

"Come on Craig, we need to start somewhere, and since Agent Harris needs a statement from you that details what took place on Saturday, then we may as well start there." William spoke quickly. "We need that information too."

Craig swallowed hard. His confused mind started clicking off facts in his mind, subtle, small details that he'd missed before because of the fears and the pain he felt from being ripped away from his home. "You aren't with Social Services." He muttered. He'd lived with Evelyn Mercer for seven years. He knew how the system worked. He knew how it had been for him when he was hurled into it when he was six years old. As awful it had been, no one had actually treated him this way. There were rules that had to be followed, and these guys weren't holding themselves accountable to those rules. No case worker would bring him to a place like this, it was so much like a jail, or treat him as if he were a criminal to be interrogated.

"Yes, actually, we are." William spoke quickly.

Craig turned his head slightly to look at William. "I knew the people who worked with my mother." He spoke quietly. "You didn't." His voice sounded deceptively calm, considering the panic that was building inside of him.

"We aren't from this county. Our office is located out of Southfield." Jim spoke quickly. "We were brought in because whatever is going on here, you seem to be in the middle of it, and you needed to be removed from the situation." He reached out and tapped at the tablet of paper in front of Craig. "We need you start writing." He snapped the last part of his statement at Craig, each syllable pronounced with precision.

Craig still didn't reach for the pen and paper. "Agent Harris brought you here." He remembered the remark Jim had made in the car.

"Yes, he did. He felt that for whatever reason, the local office of Child and Family Services would not handle this case appropriately. If your mother worked for them, then that might explain his concerns." William had reverted back to the same voice he used in the car.

"Fuck you." Craig muttered, knowing that if Bobby heard him repeating his favorite word that he would have served up a bar of Ivory. But Bobby wasn't there; he had no idea where Bobby was. For all he knew he was in jail right now. After his encounter with Harris that morning at the police station it made sense that the FBI guy would want to get some kind of payback.

William stood with no warning, his chair scraping on the concrete floor. "Look, kid, you are in a situation right now. Either you do what you are told, or this situation will only get worse. You don't want to be here for days, do you? You want to sleep in a comfortable bed tonight, don't you?"

"You'll let me go home?" Craig asked without looking up at William who was turning to sit on the table almost directly in front of him.

"No." Jim spoke quickly. "You aren't going home Craig. You are being permanently removed from the Mercer household. You will be taken back to Southfield with us, where you will be placed into foster care. Now, if you don't co-operate with us, we will be forced to lock you up. That doesn't sound very pleasant, does it?"

Craig felt as if he'd been kicked hard in the gut.

"Look, Craig, it's scary, I get that." William looked down at his tie and brushed some lint off of it. "But, you're home is not stable, it's not safe." He flicked at his tie again, apparently finding something else marring its surface.

Craig hugged at his stomach a little harder while fresh tears built behind his eyes.

"You are going to be fine, you're safe now. You can tell us what has been going on at home. No one is going to get angry, or hit you for talking to us. Your father will not be able to…" William was still talking.

"My father is dead." Craig muttered.

William looked at the boy, his brows raised slightly. "So, your brothers have been hitting you." He wasn't asking.

"No." Craig muttered. "My father hit me."

Jim sighed heavily. "You just said your father was dead." He sounded irritated, clearly confused by the statement.

Craig shook his head. He wasn't saying anything else. He wasn't writing anything down on the paper resting on the table next to William. His stomach growled loudly and his head was starting to thud dully, just behind his eyes.

William stood again, and turned to look at Jim. "This isn't getting us anywhere. We need to wait for him, he knows more about what is going on here." He spoke calmly.

Jim sat back in his chair. "Craig, we can do this back in Southfield." He sounded as if he was giving a warning. "Agent Harris will be talking with you, and then you'll spend the night at St. Vincent's. We will leave in the morning." He started gathering up some of the files, but left one folder on the table. "If you don't write out a statement for us, we'll have to write one up on our own, stating our observations and opinions. You may not be so happy with what we have pieced together. Think about that. You don't have a choice here. You are in the custody of the State of Michigan at this point in time. You are ward of the State, and you will be treated as such. As I stated before, you are going back to Southfield with us. Whether you are treated as a victim here or as a juvenile delinquent will rest on your own shoulders." He stood and walked to the door. "Come on Will." He pulled the door open. "Harris will be here soon enough. I guess we'll just wait for him."

William looked down at Craig. "You really don't want it this way Craig." He spoke quietly. "I don't want to see you end up behind bars because you are withholding evidence that the federal government obviously needs. Why don't you trust us?"

Craig thought he would throw up at the sound of those words. How stupid were these guys? He shook his head slowly and avoided looking up at William.

Jack had told him before that he needed to trust his instincts and his instincts were screaming at him that these guys were no better than Adam Macks. There was something beneath their outward appearance, something that felt like his father, only not as strong. His instincts were telling him to run from them; the only problem was he was trapped with no place to run. His life was falling apart around him and there was nothing he could do about it. If he wrote his statement down now, there was no chance of being taken back home. He was never going home.

* * *

Johnson was saying something about going back to the station, to check on Jack and see if he could corner Harris somehow to demand some information about what the hell the son of a bitch was trying to do. It was normal to try to intimidate suspects, and Harris' tactics were old school, but his method of execution went against all logic. Bobby stood at the front in front of the couch, staring out the window, his mind rolling over the pictures from just a couple of hours earlier. Jack in handcuffs, his rights being clicked off by Harris in a cold, unfeeling voice; Craig being half carried up the sidewalk to a waiting car. Both of them calling out to him, Craig's voice more of a scream than anything else. His chest clenched on him as his brain flashed a picture of Craig, through the back window of the car, fighting like hell to break free from the Social Services worker who had his fucking hands on him, and then flashed another picture of Jack, hands cuffed behind his back being pushed into the back of a dark colored sedan, a hand pushing his head down so that he wouldn't hit it on the roof of the car as he slid in.

"Listen, why don't you guys give Robert a call and find out if he's made it there yet? You might want to give your buddy, Johnny, a call as well. I'm sure Harris is going to be focusing on him next. He's gonna try to take down everyone who was a part of what happened on Saturday. Maybe you could give him some warning, just in case he has anything going on that could drag him down?"

"Naw, man, Johnny's straight." Angel spoke from somewhere behind Bobby in response to Johnson's warning.

"Straight or not, he needs to have some kind of warning. They are liable to try to set him up." Jeremiah put in quickly. "Harris is already screwing around with us, there's no telling what he might try to do with Johnny."

Bobby turned to face his brothers and focused on Johnson. "Give me your phone." He snapped harshly, though he really wasn't pissed at the detective. Johnson was the only person present that he felt he could take a little frustration out on.

"Green was supposed to be calling me with some news from Judge Ames." Johnson spoke quickly. "I'd like to keep the line open."

"Who the hell is Judge Ames?" Angel asked.

"One of the few Judges we have in the county who hasn't got dirty hands. He doesn't take kickbacks; he doesn't go light on the big time hoodlums that come in front of him, no matter how many death threats have come across his desk." Johnson reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "You should use your own phone…" He started his statement quietly.

"Harris is gonna be tracking any calls made from our phone, and you know it. You gonna tell me the house phone wasn't tapped while they were in here? He'll track any call made from the cell phones too, we've seen firsthand the shit they can do with cell phones. He connects any of our calls to Johnny and he's gonna use it against us. Now give me your fucking phone, it will do that beep thing if Green calls, so you won't miss that call right?" Bobby took three quick steps to stand in front of Johnson; his hand held out as if he had no doubt the man would surrender it to him.

Johnson stared at Bobby for a long moment, a look on his face that let the oldest Mercer know he was trying to think of an argument to contradict his reasoning. He finally sighed and held his phone out to him. "Now it's gonna look like I gave him a call, great." He muttered as he relinquished his phone.

Bobby called Johnny and quickly caught him up to speed on what had been happening with his family. "I need you to keep your fucking nose clean Johnny, keep your guard up." He spoke quickly. "And I need some information." He added with a more slow precision. "I need to know what all Macks was involved in before Sweet died, I need names and details on all of his operations."

Johnny was calm, as always, and made some kind of joke about his ex wife would get a fucking kick out the problems coming down on him now if she knew about them, before he agreed meet up with Bobby about seven o'clock that evening. "I'll meet you down by the river. I feel like doing a little fishing tonight."

Bobby could hear the grin that he knew as spread across his friend's face; he knew exactly where Johnny wanted to go fishing. He felt a smile try to trace his own lips, and it probably would have if his chest hadn't felt so heavy at that moment. "Thanks Johnny, I owe you." Bobby moved to flip the phone closed.

"Again," Johnny amended Bobby's statement loud enough to be heard before the younger man snapped the phone closed.

Johnson held his hand out, expecting his phone be dropped into it just as it rang out with the Ohio State University fight song. Bobby eyed Johnson for a long moment before looking at the name lighting up the front screen on the phone. "Ohio State my ass," He muttered as he allowed a sarcastic smile while answering the phone. "Green, you ass hole, what the hell is going on with my brothers?" He spoke with more pitch to his voice than he'd intended to, but he wanted to hear something positive for a change. The past couple of hours had been hell.

"Bobby? What the hell are you doing answering Johnson's phone?" Green cried out from the other end of the line.

"What did your judge say?" Bobby asked quickly. "What's going on with Jack, and how the hell am I going to get Craig back?"

Bobby was sure he heard a heavy sigh in his ear. "Judge Ames is looking into the warrants that were issued. But they were issued by a federal judge, and he isn't sure what he can do." Green spoke with a carefulness to his words that Bobby didn't like. "But he thought he might have a few cards up his sleeve. He's going to get back with me."

"What else?" Bobby eyed each of his brothers and Johnson.

"Well, I tried to contact Children's Services, to find out where they were taking Craig." Green's voice was barely audible.

Bobby strained to hear the words, the confusion spreading across his brow as Green continued speaking. "They don't know anything about Craig. No one from the local office of Child and Family Services has any knowledge of taking custody of Craig this afternoon." Green's words seemed to choke off.

Bobby's stare hung on Jeremiah for a long moment while Green's words sunk in. "They didn't come for him, then who the fuck did?" He finally asked the question that was burning in his throat. "Who the hell has my little brother?"

* * *

Jack allowed Paul, the Correction's Officer who acted as if he had a corn cob stuck up his ass, to push him into the small interview room. He felt relief hit his stomach when his eyes adjusted to the lighting and he recognized Robert Bradford sitting at the table, with some papers in front of him.

"Robert." Jack spoke quietly as Paul removed the cuffs from his wrists and allowed him to sit down across from his lawyer. "What the hell am I going to do? Are my brothers here?" He looked at the older man with expectation.

"They aren't here. It's the last place they need to be." Robert looked at Jack and managed a small smile. "Are you okay? Has anyone questioned you yet?"

"No, Harris said he was going to the courthouse where they were holding Craig first." Jack shook his head. "What the hell is he doing? I think he's using all of this to get to Craig and not me?" He wasn't sure. "When can I get out of here?"

Robert scowled. "The courthouse is not where Craig should be taken." He spoke quietly. "Why would Children's Services take him there?"

Jack repeated what Harris had said in the car. "He wanted to question Craig, about Saturday, and Bobby wouldn't let him do it this morning." He reminded the lawyer.

"Yes I know. What have you told them?" Robert asked.

"Nothing, I haven't said a word." Jack shook his head. "And that pissed him off. He said he'd have time to question me after he talked to Craig."

"He can't talk to Craig. It goes against every right that boy has." Robert shook his head. "He has to have an advocate with him, and as your family's lawyer, I can petition to have him returned as soon as possible. I've got some calls in now."

"Okay." Jack didn't feel any better, though he knew Robert's words had been spoken with the intention of easing his worries about Craig. "But what about my little brother, when are you going to get him away from Harris?"

"Right now, we need to concentrate on you. You haven't been questioned at all?" Robert looked confused.

"No, I was booked and then locked in a cell, alone, which is fine by me, by the way. Harris went to meet up with whoever has Craig. He is going to question him, and I don't think he's exactly going to be all that pleasant with him." Jack shrugged his shoulders. "You need to be going after Craig."

"They have you in a secluded cell? Not so fine with me." Robert let out a huff. "I don't like that you are being separated from the general population Jack, it can mean trouble."

Jack listened while Robert went on to outline his plans for getting him out of county lock up before the end of the day. He said he'd spoken with Green and that he was contacting a judge who was going to push some paperwork through.

"They don't have anything to hold you on, however when I started quoting precedence they laughed at me and said that I needed to talk to Federal Agent Harris, that this was his case. I talked to Lieutenant Green just before I got here and he is doing all he can to get Judge Ames to push the paperwork through to release you on your own recognizance until you initial hearing to determine if charges will be pressed." Robert's words came out quickly as he looked at his watch.

"What are the chances of that happening? I mean, of being released tonight?" Jack asked quietly, expecting to hear that the chances weren't good at all, that more than likely he was going to be stuck behind bars for a day or two. Since he was sure he was stuck where he was for a time he didn't understand why Robert wasn't more concerned with finding Craig. He was about to voice that thought when Robert surprised him.

"Actually, with Judge Ames working on our side, the chances are very good. Don't worry. It's a little after five o'clock now, so it might be a couple of hours yet. Until they tell you that you are being released, do not, under any circumstances, talk to anyone. No matter what they tell you, you keep your mouth shut. In the mean time, I'm going to find out exactly where they took Craig and why, okay?" Robert picked up his papers and stood. "When this is all over, I am going to look forward to filing charges for false arrest." He remarked. "I say that because I know you are innocent Jack. If anyone tries to question you, you demand to that I be present and do not say a word."

Jack nodded his head. He would have stood, but his knees felt weak while he was sitting, he wasn't sure they would hold his weight if he rose from the chair.

There was little more to be said, and Robert shook hands with Jack quickly. "I'll see you soon Jack."

"Thanks." Jack muttered, not feeling the least bit more at ease after the talk. "I think." He sat back in his chair.

"Look, Jack, we'll get you out of here, I promise. Believe me when I say that having you back at home by eight o'clock is something to be happy about. By all rights they can hold you for forty eight hours without charging you with a crime. I know it doesn't sound very helpful, knowing the charges may still be hanging over your head, but you will be home at least, and when the time comes for your hearing, we can use the fact that you have been home under supervision without running to prove you are not going to be a flight risk."

Jack nodded his head slowly. His fears were still there, but at least Robert seemed positive about his release, soon. "And Craig, you're going to find out where they took him and get him back?" He asked quietly.

Robert smiled, but is looked weak. "Believe it or not Jack, getting you out of here is going to be much easier than getting Craig back. Once Social Services have a child, they are very reluctant to release them. They wouldn't have taken Craig unless they had been given some kind of information to lead them to believe it was in his best interest."

"How do you know Social Services have him? Just because they showed papers, and I.D. doesn't mean they're legit', right? I mean, Harris could have had his own people snatch him and flash fake papers." Jack was surprised the thoughts were even in his head once he'd voiced them. "After all the lies we've been handed over the past few weeks, I'm not so quick to believe they were anything but Harris' men, working with him to separate us all."

Robert frowned and sucked in a hard gulp of air. "Well, let's find out, shall we? I'll be back soon enough Jack. You just hold tight and do what I told you." He turned and walked over to the door.

Jack watched silently while Robert Bradford knocked on the door and waited to be let out of the room. An unfamiliar uniformed officer opened the door and allowed the lawyer to step out. The door was closed and Jack was sure he heard a 'click' as the lock was engaged. He sat back in the chair, wondering how long they would leave him sitting in that room. He would have preferred to be taken back to his cell, but the cops were going to play games with him, he was sure. He hoped Robert was right about only having to a couple of more hours.


	14. Chapter 14

As always, thanks to all for reading, and thanks to those who have reviewed, you guys are the best :) Sorry this one took so long, it's been one of those weeks... Let me know what you think, and hopefully the next chapter won't take so long!

Still don't own, still make no money.

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**Chapter 14: Trust**

Craig watched as William and Jim walked out of the room. The paper tablet had been left on the table in front of him, with the pen, and one last warning that he needed to start writing a statement had been voiced by Jim before the men left. Craig sat back in his chair and looked around the room. It was small, and the mirror on the opposite wall looked like what he'd seen in police shows on television and in movies, when the cops would pull a suspect in for questioning. There was always someone on the other side of the mirror, watching and listening to everything going on. He wondered if someone was behind the reflection, watching him. Would Jim and William go into the next room and watch him while he sat there?

Was Harris behind the mirror, laughing at him, proud of how he'd managed to screw up his entire life? The man was destroying his entire life and no one cared. What was going to happen to him now? How long would they leave him sitting there? He leaned forward over the paper and picked the pen up in his hand. He pressed the pen down on one of the blue lines and let his mind wonder back through the past few days. He hadn't felt anything, and it had been a relief. He hadn't felt the fear that had been stalking him over the past few weeks, or the confusion. He had been free, for a short time.

He wanted that back. He didn't want to feel the pain or the fear. His father was dead, and his life was supposed to go back to what might be close to normal; instead, it was spiraling out of control on him. They were taking him away, and he was never going to see his brothers again. He was never going to go home again. As his mind rolled all of the thoughts around his hand started moving with the pen. He leaned over the paper closer, though he wasn't paying that much attention to what his hand was etching out in ink.

His mind flashed pictures and feelings through his head, like flickers of memory played back from a movie, Evelyn's face the day she walked into St. Vincent's the first time, his first birthday cake, the first time he'd seen the Mercer house, the first time he'd met his brothers, and cringed back from them. His first Christmas with his new family, and the feelings that had swelled inside of him tumbled into view. His mother's face the first time he'd given her a picture that wasn't a reference to his earlier days with Adam Macks. The look on Bobby's face the first time he'd looked up at him at the cemetery. The feelings he'd battled inside after his mother's funeral. That day his brothers had watched the video tape at the store and knew the secret he'd been carrying around, sure they would hate him for being what he was, and found only understanding from them once they knew the truth.

The picture of Bobby Mercer walking across a lake of ice, ready to take him back home flashed through his mind and he felt his chest hitch hard. Bobby's hands grabbing hold of him as he slid off the edge of the dock, stopping him from falling into the icy waters ready to suck him down and swallow him up. The look on Bobby's face when he'd asked him if he was going to be his father stuck out beyond all the rest. He had finally found his place with his brothers, and he knew why it had felt so wrong before, he had been afraid of letting himself feel close to them, afraid of having it all ripped away because of Adam Macks. But Adam was no longer a threat and it was all falling apart.

The door opened four pages after Craig's hand had started inking the paper with rough illustrations of his brothers' faces. He sat back from the paper and looked up at the form walking into the room. Harris closed the door harder than he needed to, and looked at Craig, a scowl written across his face. He pulled off his suit jacket and gave it a sling so that it rested over the back of one of the chairs, but he didn't move to sit. His arms crossed at his chest and he started pacing slowly back and forth in front of the mirror lining the wall opposite of Craig. He kept his eyes fixed on the boy, and the anger radiating from him was almost suffocating.

"Well, I see you have made some use of the paper." Harris looked down at the partial drawing on the sheet.

Craig glanced down at Bobby's face, mostly finished, staring up at him through thin blue lines. His fingers fidgeted with the ink pen, but he didn't try to respond to the comment. What was he supposed to say?

"That was not the purpose of that paper. Doodles and marks that have no significant meaning to me." Harris nearly hissed the words.

A shiver ran down Craig's back as the pen slipped from his hand and rolled across the page. He pulled further back into the chair, wishing he could sink all the way into it and disappear.

Harris stopped pacing and stepped up to the table. He picked the tablet up in his hands and flipped through the pages. "Your brothers," He commented as he viewed the images of each Mercer that Craig had etched out on the pages. He let out a quiet chuckle as he ripped each page from the tablet. He held up Jack's face and flashed it in Craig's direction. "This one is very good, but you might want to think about what is going to happen to your brother Jack if you don't co-operate with me and start writing out a detailed description of what took place on Saturday."

Craig stared that the sketch for a long moment before looking up into Harris' eyes.

The man was pissed, and that fact frightened him. He looked and felt like the kind of person who would strike out if he was pissed enough. "Do you know where Jack is right now? He's in jail. He's in jail for murdering your father. Do you not have any feelings about that? Your own father was gunned down in cold blood." Harris shook his head in a slow, calculating motion.

Craig shook his head quickly. He wanted to yell out at the tall man before him that he was wrong. Adam Macks was not gunned down the way he said; he was shot because he was going to kill Bobby. He'd come after his brothers, they hadn't gone after him.

"Now, this brother is going to spend the rest of his life in prison." Harris let a mean looking smile spread across his face while he gave the drawing of Jack a quick shake, crinkling the paper under his grip. "You could save him from that fate, simply by giving me your statement. Think about it. In fact, you could save all of your brothers. I'm going to take them down, one way or another. By the time I'm finished with the Mercers, they are all going to be locked up behind bars, or dead, and you don't want that, do you? There is so much for me to work with here, not one of them has a clean record, and hell, it's not as if they've taken the best care of you in the past month, now is it?" Harris drew in a long, deep breath and let it out with a loud huff. "What they said in their statements means nothing, absolutely nothing. The only thing that's preventing me from hauling them all in right now is Lieutenant Green and Sergeant Johnson's statements, but those are weak too, and I'll manage to tear them apart with little effort. So you see; you can help them out here by giving me something credible, so that I can believe everything they've told me. I would suggest, for your own benefit, that you do as I tell you.

Craig's throat went dry instantly as the tablet of paper was dropped back in front of him, minus the pictures of his brothers. Harris sounded threatening, and the glare he was casting down on Craig made him feel small.

"Now, pick up the pen, and start writing, or I will make you regret it." Harris grabbed hold of one of the chairs and jerked it away from the table. The screeching of the metal legs against the concrete seemed to vibrate throughout the room.

Craig watched Harris sit in the chair before reaching out to pick up the pen, his hand shaking from the weakness his fears seemed to induce in each and every muscle. He looked down at the paper and thought about what he'd said on Saturday. He knew what he'd said when they recorded his statement; it wouldn't be hard to write down. He remembered Bobby at the police station that morning though, and how his brother had insisted that any further contact with Harris or any written statement would have to be done with Robert present. He wasn't sure what he should do. How could his statement help Jack or any of his brothers? Harris didn't want to let them go, no matter what Craig wrote down. He sucked in a deep breath and looked at Harris. "I need to talk to my lawyer." He knew it sounded stupid as soon as he said it.

"You want to see your lawyer?" Harris smiled, but didn't really look amused. "You don't get to talk to a lawyer. You are going to write that statement for me." Harris leaned forward in his chair. "You don't want to be stuck in here, with me, all night, do you? Because the longer I'm here, the more irritated and pissed off I'm going to get."

Craig weighed his choices. He was sure that his brothers were doing something to try to get him home, at least he hoped they were. He thought about the fears he'd been fighting for so long, the fear of being taken away from his brothers, or of them getting rid of him; Bobby not wanting him was the worst of it all. That hadn't happened. They seemed to want him, they told him they wanted him, and he felt as if he was wanted. Bobby had come for him when Sweet had him, he'd even found him after his father had taken him.

He had to decide what to trust in that short moment. Did he trust that his brothers would come for him or did he trust that Harris was going to make good on his threats? Because if he was going to trust his brothers, he couldn't do what Harris wanted from him, he had to wait and do what Bobby would want him to do, and that was keep his mouth shut and not co-operate with the son of bitch, no matter how afraid he was of him. He tried to boost his own resolve by telling himself he'd already been hurt as bad as anyone could hurt him, he'd been under Adam Mack's thumb, and nothing else could be as bad as that.

Craig dropped the pen and pulled deep into the hard back of the metal chair he was seated in. "Go fuck yourself." He muttered, keeping his eyes on the paper tablet, trying to prepare himself for the anger that Harris was sure to display next, still clinging to the fragile thread of trust that connected him to his brothers.

* * *

Bobby stood on the front steps of his mother's house and watched as Jeremiah pulled his car out behind Johnson's to follow him to the police station. Angel was seated in the passenger's seat, and he looked over and gave Bobby a quick wave just before Jeremiah gave the car enough gas to move on down the street. Bradford had called with good news, and someone needed to be at the police station to pick up Jack. Their problems were far from over, abut at least Jack would be home. Now he had to figure out where in the hell Craig was and how he was going to get him home as well.

In the mean time, that left Bobby with no ride to meet up with Johnny. Well, there was the other car, the piece of shit Gremlin sitting in the driveway in the back, but he'd managed to avoid driving it and didn't want to ruin a perfect record. He didn't want any cops tailing him either, local or the Feds, and he knew that Harris would want to watch him, as well as the rest of his family. He'd have one of his guys on his ass the second he drove away from the house. Bobby reached behind him and checked the door to be sure it was locked. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and moved down the steps, walking away from the house casually.

He checked out the cars as he passed them in as discrete a manner as possible. He took a mental picture of each vehicle that passed him the street as well. He started to whistle The Star Spangled Banner as he stepped briskly down the cracked and uneven concrete sidewalk. His ears started to feel the pinch from the cooler air that was moving in around him as evening approached, and reached up to his black wool cap and pulled it down over the tops of his ears. His boots crunched through some half melted snow, a thin crust forming as the temperature dropped.

Half a block from the house he spied the beige sedan parked on the opposite side of the street with two men wearing black suits sitting inside. He held in a smile as he proceeded on. The plates gave them away, government tags screamed out Federal Agents, and the suits didn't hurt as far as distinguishing them from local cops. Hell, they weren't very bright, that was a fact.

Bobby reached the intersection and looked at the store front, the same store where his mother had been gunned down, killed in cold blood. It seemed nothing about his life, or his brothers' lives would ever get back to normal since that day. She truly was the glue that held them all together, even when three of them had been so far away.

He sucked in a deep breath and hoped that his plan to trust a total stranger was wise. He took wide strides across the wet street, looking up at the clouds moving in as the sun poked down towards the edge of the sky, reflecting red-gold off of the water and thin ice glistening off of the blacktop. He reached the steps in front of the store and hopped up them gingerly, looking pleased with himself as he turned in a casual manner to eye the sedan pulling up to the curb across the street. He stepped into the store and looked across the counter to a face he recognized, thankfully. He moved over to a cooler and pulled out a 40 ounce bottle of beer before moving to the counter.

Ahmed punched buttons on the cash register before looking at Bobby. A smile crossed his face as he recognized the man. "You are one of Evelyn Mercer's sons." The man spoke carefully, but his words still sounded choppy. "I remember you." He reached over the counter, offering his hand. "How are you doing? How is Craig? I miss seeing him." He smiled at Bobby, his eyes seeming to dance in a way they had not the morning he'd showed the Mercer brothers the video of their mother's murder.

Bobby was surprised by the strength of the man's grip when he accepted the hand shake. "He's okay, well as good as you could expect. I'll have to bring him in when he's feeling up to it. It's kind of hard for him to come in here, you know?" Bobby spoke quietly; he wasn't really lying, not completely. It seemed it had been hard for Craig to go anywhere, not just this store, and now he was separated from his brothers, alone somewhere and probably thinking the worst. Bobby felt a tug in his chest and tried to push it down.

"Oh, yes, I understand." Ahmed grinned and pulled his hand back to grab a bag. He rattled off the price of the beer before he slid it into to a brown paper bag.

Bobby didn't really hear the price, but dug into his pocket for some stray one dollar bills that were crumbled there. He started counting the money out slowly, shifting his eyes out to the window next to him. "You see that car out there?" He shifted his eyes back to the money in his hand.

"Oh, yes, the police that followed you." Ahmed didn't look out the window; he kept his eyes fixed on Bobby. "I noticed them before I recognized your face." He smiled.

"Well, I need to lose them." Bobby sighed and prayed Craig was right about Ahmed, he had said he was nice, and he liked him just as he had liked the clerk that had been killed the same night Evelyn had been shot.

"I see." Ahmed took the five one dollar bills from Bobby's hand. "Perhaps you should go to the back, to the restroom?" He suggested. "I do not let many people behind my counter. I think you, I can trust." He punched more keys on the register, popping the cash drawer open. He counted out coins to return to Bobby. "Perhaps there is some lunch meat you would like to look at?" He didn't give Bobby a chance to respond before he walked out from behind the sales counter and walked quickly to the back of the store where the meat counter set.

Bobby picked up his brown bag and followed the older man. He couldn't help but stare at the floor in front of the meats, the place his mother had died. He didn't follow Ahmed around the counter, he waited for the man to turn and look past him to the window. "They are looking, wait." Ahmed nodded his head and slid one of the doors to the meat cooler open. He leaned down and reached in, looking through the glass of the deli to watch the men through the front window. "Okay, come on." He turned and walked through the doorway in the back.

Bobby didn't hesitate, following his new best friend quickly. Ahmed led him through the storage room to a back door and thrust it open for him. "You go now; they won't be able to see you." He looked up at Bobby.

"Thank you." Bobby was at a loss for any other words. He hadn't been sure if he could trust the store keeper, but apparently Craig was right about him. "I appreciate this."

"I hear things, just like the rest of neighborhood. I know what goes on, and I know it is not right." Ahmed spoke slowly. "You go. If they come in, I will stall them; I will tell them you needed the facilities." He poked a thumb towards a door marked 'Men' off to the side of the back room.

Bobby wasn't sure what to think about Ahmed's words. He had the feeling the man wanted to tell him something, and he wanted to give the stranger in front of him the chance. He needed to know what he had heard, exactly, and from whom, but that was going to have to wait. First he needed make sure he lost the feds tailing him, and he had to meet up with Johnny and hear what he had found out. He sighed and gave Ahmed a nod. "If you don't mind, I'll come back later, and maybe we can talk?" He figured he'd test out the man's willingness to share information with him. He may have been helping him now, but that didn't mean it was going to be a long term commitment to helping out the Mercers.

"Oh, I believe that would be a wise move." Ahmed returned his nod. "But for now, I do think you should, how do you say, um, move your ass." Ahmed gave Bobby a slight push.

Bobby smiled and moved out the door. He found himself in the back alley and remembered the route Craig had taken the day he'd run from the store in a panic. He'd found out so much about his little brother since that day. Hell, he'd found some things out about himself as well. He'd found a paternal instinct that had been just under his skin, itching at him for years; that urge to be a father, though he'd never been able to identify it as that before. He'd always thought it was being a big brother that drove him. He was coming to terms with laying claim to Craig as his son, and now the kid had been taken from him. He was going to find him, and he would get him home, that was his priority, but he was sure it wasn't going to be as easy as getting Jack home and into his own bed that night.

He could smell dirty cop all over Harris, even though he was with the government, and Bobby knew this was going to be the biggest challenge yet, to keeping his family together. He had to bring Harris down, and clear his family completely. That wasn't going to be easy. What kind of contacts did Harris have? What kind of connections had he given to Macks, and what was it that Macks knew that Harris wanted so badly now? It had to be important, and it had to involve big money. Why else would Harris come storming in and tear apart everything that meant shit to the Mercers. He was ripping them apart and Bobby had no control over any of it, at least he didn't have control yet. He was gonna find what he needed to take control and get his family back together. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that he had let his mother down somehow, by allowing things to get out of hand.

Bobby heard the door behind him close with a soft click and was drawn out of his thoughts. He looked from left to right before glancing at his watch. Johnny had wanted to meet him about seven. He had a little ways to go. Johnny's fishing trips rarely involved the river, or water, let alone fish. He would have to catch a bus and head west, away from the river. It may have been a few years since he'd had do decipher Johnny's subtle hints, but he still knew where the older man wanted to meet up with him, and it damn sure wasn't the river. Johnny was being careful, which meant that he had already been visited by cops and wasn't taking any chances on talking over the phone.

Bobby decided to follow Craig's route, remembering the railroad tracks his little brother had followed the day they'd discovered the truth about what had happened in the store. The tracks ran where streets and alleys didn't. They could lead him several blocks away, unseen to the cops looking to follow him. He had given into a lot in just a short time. He was allowing himself to trust other people and he wondered if that was wise. He normally didn't trust anyone other than his brothers, and Johnny. He had trusted Craig's instinct about the store keeper, Ahmed, and he had a feeling it was going to turn out good. He could sense that there was something the man could tell him, what exactly, he wasn't sure, but it was a feeling…


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks all for reading, and for those of you who reviewed, I'm sorry I didn't respond to all of them, I do appreciate them all, and I promise i WILL resond this time :)

Do not own, make no money

* * *

**Chapter 15: Ghost**

Jeremiah looked at Angel, who was standing at the counter, talking to a cute little thing in a correction's uniform. He sighed and stepped up to stand next to his brother, unable to resist the compulsion that had been wearing away at him for several minutes. "Hey, little brother, Camille was hoping you and Sofi could come over for dinner one night. You want to ask your lovely fiancé about that?"

Angel had been smiling wide at the young lady behind the counter, but his smile slowly seemed to drop slightly as soon as Jeremiah had spoken Sofi's name. "I'll do that, as soon as I get the chance." He turned his head and gave Jeremiah a hard stare.

The young lady rolled her eyes and turned to walk away from the two Mercers.

"Hey, Lauren, you never answered my question." Angel snapped back around to look at her retreating form, his eyes shifting down further than they should have as he watched her back swaying from side to side with each step. He sighed when she didn't turn back or respond to him. "Damn, Jerry, I was digging for information, man, and you just ruined it." He didn't look back over.

"Why is it you seem to have to pick the women to try to dig that information out of Angel?" Jerry asked. "Damn, you don't want to screw shit up with Sofi, do you?"

"The way things are looking right now, we might not have to worry about women, Jerr'." Angel finally turned to face his brother. "Besides, not every relationship can be as picture perfect as yours and Camille's. Sofi is special, I love her, but I ain't locking myself up in a closet for the rest of my life just because I'm with her. I talk to women, I look, but I sure as hell don't touch, and Sofi knows that." He shifted his weight to another leg. "I was trying to find out what the hell was going on with Jack. We've been waiting for a long time."

"It ain't been that long. Man, they'll bring him out soon enough. You know how this works." Jeremiah tried to ignore the comment about his and Camille's relationship being perfect. If only Angel knew the stress his marriage was under he might understand his older brother's concern for his own relationship, but he wasn't able to share that information, not just yet. Somethings just didn't need to be shared with his brothers; somethings were beyond his brothers, or so he figured.

Angel looked at Jeremiah and frowned. "Why the hell do you look so depressed? Jack is being released, at least for now, and that's a good thing, right?" He seemed to pick up on Jeremiah's worries.

"Yeah, it's all good; of course it's good." Jeremiah shook his head. "Nothing is wrong." He forced his thoughts about his wife into the dark shadows of his brain.

Angel forced a cynical laugh. "Oh, hell there's all sorts of shit wrong with this whole situation." He turned his head to watch a few cops walk past, and Jeremiah followed his gaze. The stares cast their way were meant to intimidate, but neither Mercer averted their eyes. Angel shot a sideways glance at Jeremiah once the officers had passed and chuckled softly. "Hell, I guess we showed them, huh?" He joked.

Jeremiah understood Angel's point; they had both stood, side by side, and faced down the cops, together. Just like they always had as boys; neither had any intention of leaving the other to face anything alone. That went for all of their brothers. He nodded his head and gave Angel a small smile. "Damn straight." He agreed.

The door at the end of the open hall swung inward and Jack strolled through, looking none the worse for wear at first glance. His shirt was hanging out of his pants, and he looked bare, with no leather wrapped around his wrists or rings on his fingers. Robert Bradford emerged from the door directly behind Jack. He gave Jack a pat on his arm and motioned to the counter where Jeremiah was standing with Angel. Jack looked over towards them and a spark seemed to flare up in his eyes. "Where's Bobby?" He asked as he stepped over towards them.

"Well hello to you too Cracker Jack." Angel reached his arms out towards Jack and gave him a brief hug. "You always know what to say to make us feel all fuzzy and warm inside."

Jack returned the hug, though only partially. "Fuck you. Where is Bobby?" He asked.

"He's checking out a few things." Jeremiah glanced around him at the uniforms. "We'll talk in the car."

"I need to get my shit." Jack muttered and needled in between Angel and Jeremiah at the counter.

"Hey, get my brother his things." Angel called to the cute little jail guard he'd been flirting with a few minutes earlier. "Please?" He added with a smile that usually swept the women off of their feet.

A corrections officer wearing a silver name tag sauntered up to the counter a moment later with an envelope. Jeremiah read the name. Paul Everholtz. He noticed a look between Jack and Paul as Jack snatched the envelope out of the guard's hand. He also noticed the twitch in Jack's jaw as he opened the envelope and dumped his rings and leather onto the counter.

Jack returned each ring to the proper finger and strapped his leather around his wrist with slow, careful motions, glancing up at good old Paul in between each of his moves. "So, Jack, you okay?" Angel seemed to notice the glances between his brother and the guard as well; his gaze was fixed on the uniform as he spoke.

"I'm fine." Jack muttered. "Let's get the hell out of here." He stuffed his wallet into his back pocket and turned towards the door.

"You'll be back, Mercer, just wait." Paul called out just as they reached the door.

Jack didn't look back, though Jeremiah was sure his brother's shoulders tensed at the sound of the words. Jack stepped quickly down the steps and to the street. He looked up and down the curb. "Where's the car?"

"Jack, hold up." Robert spoke from behind Jeremiah, following them. "I need to make sure you understand…"

"I get it, okay. A hearing is scheduled for first thing in the morning." Jack turned back to look at Robert. He seemed to really take in the sight of Angel and Jeremiah for the first time. "I need to talk to Bobby." He gave his shoulders a shrug and his arms lifted slightly. "We need to find Craig."

Jeremiah turned to Robert Bradford. "Do we know anything new about Craig?" He had a feeling that Jack and Robert both knew something more than the rest of the Mercers. He hadn't talked to Green since they left the house, but he'd thought his friend would call if he had heard anything.

"I was hoping to talk to all of you at the same time. Where is Bobby?" Robert stepped up to Jeremiah as he pulled gloves on over his hands.

"He's checking up on some things, just like we said." Angel spoke up. "We gotta try to figure out exactly what Harris if after. We need to know what Mack's had that Harris wants."

Jeremiah shot Angel a hard look. "Shut the fuck up." He spoke quickly, trying to nod his head as discretely as possible towards the cops coming down the steps of the police station.

"What?" Angel looked surprised by Jeremiah's words. "We trust Robert, and we need to keep him in the loop." He spoke quietly when he realized there were police officers walking past them.

They waited until the officers were moving on down the walk before turning back to look at Robert.

"We know that our local Children's Services don't have Craig. That's for certain. I've got calls into surrounding counties, and I've got calls out to Harris' partner, but it's late, and I doubt if I'll hear anything before morning." Robert shook his head.

"What the hell do you think Harris is doing?" Jeremiah asked quickly.

"I think he's trying to get information from Craig, and the only way he could try was to separate him from Bobby. Bobby wouldn't let him talk to the boy, so, he had to get to him another way." Robert drew in a deep breath. "What could Craig know about Macks' dealings?"

Jeremiah scowled. "Nothing, I mean how could he? He's been in our house for seven years. He didn't have any contact with Macks until…" He couldn't quite finish his thought, part of him cringing inside at the thought of Adam Macks having his hands on Craig so recently. Now the idea of Harris playing some kind of bullshit game played around in his head.

"Well, Harris must think he knows something." Robert looked at Jack as he expected him to add something to the statement.

"Harris didn't bother trying to question me. He told me if I wouldn't talk to him, then he knew a Mercer who would. Then he told the others to book me that he was going to the courthouse; that's where he told them to take Craig." Jack spoke quickly. "He was going to have him taken to St. Vincent's after he was finished with him."

"The courthouse," Jeremiah felt more confused after Jack's information than ever. "Why in God's name would he take a fourteen year old kid to the courthouse and not have him processed through Children's Services?"

"Because Children's Services don't have him," Robert spoke carefully. "That's what alarms me. I need to speak with Bobby; I need to work with him, given the fact that he is the custodial guardian." He added quickly.

"Yeah, well I can tell you right now, Bobby ain't figuring on being able to deal with Harris in any courtroom. The man ain't gonna give us that because he knows all of the evidence concerning Macks works in our favor. He's got his hands into something dirty and whatever it is he's after us because he thinks we got what he needs. No amount of reasoning is going to convince him otherwise." Angel spoke the words slow and precise; as if he wanted to be sure Robert understood his meaning.

Robert nodded his head. "I know that. But in the mean time, we have no idea where Craig is."

"Harris said the courthouse." Jack corrected the older man.

"The courthouse in our district is closed Jack, it's after hours. I've already called everyone I could think of locally, and in neighboring districts, and there simply is no one anywhere with any knowledge of Craig's presence. He has not been taken to St. Vincent's either." Robert shook his head slowly. "He's disappeared, like a ghost."

* * *

The old packaging plant had, at one time, processed frozen fish for a small time fishing company. The building had been boarded up for years. Johnny's father had owned in back in the day, but had lost it when times got too hard. Johnny had several abandoned buildings that he liked, but anytime he said he was going fishing, he was heading back to the stomping grounds of his childhood.

The dark stairwell smelled of stale piss, tobacco, and some illegal substances that Bobby could identify if he took enough time to think about it. He didn't feel like taking the time though, he wanted to get to the end of the stairs and to some fresh air before he could no longer contain his urge to bring up his lunch. He was sure it was still there, he could feel it lying on his stomach like a bundle of nails, spiking at his insides.

The twilight was bearing down on Detroit with the clouds having cleared away, at least for the moment. The air still felt like snow despite the fact that Bobby couldn't quite explain that feeling. He closed the metal door behind him and looked at the gravel covered roof. At the far end he could see Johnny with his eye pressed into one end of a large telescope.

It was Johnny's obsession on hot, muggy, summer nights, fishing for stars on the roof of the abandoned building. Taking one of his 'fishing' trips in the middle of winter was odd, but hell, the man was getting older and older people did some strange things no matter how fucking tough they might have been in their youth. It was a hobby Johnny had shared with his father as a youngster, and he held true to in even now, so many years after the man's death.

Bobby remembered going with Johnny a few times, spending entire nights on a roof, star gazing, or street gazing, depending on the cloud and smog level over the city. Usually the telescope was aimed downward, as was the case now. "What took you so long?" Johnny called out from his awkward position of leaning into his lens with no chair so support him. He didn't move to look away from his view.

Bobby had to smile at the sight. He hadn't seen Johnny spying off of a roof for years and somehow it gave a feeling of finally being home despite the shit going down around him. "I had to lose a couple of Feds." He walked across the gravel topped roof, towards the ledge where Johnny had set up his telescope. "That's not the easiest thing to do when you're on foot."

"What the hell you walkin' the streets for, you've got a car, ain't ya?" Johnny swiveled the telescope slightly to the left and chuckled softly, "Stupid shit you're gonna end up getting killed roamin' the streets after dark."

Bobby pulled to a stop a couple of feet behind Johnny. "You still spy on your ex-wife Johnny? I would have thought you'd be over that obsession. It ain't healthy you know?" He chose to ignore the reference to the Gremlin he'd left parked in his drive.

"Oh, hell, I gave up on her after she shot me." Johnny turned and looked at Bobby, a big grin spread across his face. "There is a lot of shit to watch if you look close enough. Here take a look." He backed away from the telescope and snatched the brown bag out of Bobby's hands.

Bobby didn't have to lean down as far as Johnny to peer into the lens. He could hear the brown paper ripped away from the beer bottle while his eye took focus of the view beneath him. He felt his eye squint and his hand moved to adjust the focus slightly. The view of the front of a bar became clear. "You're watching drunks instead now, huh?" He chuckled softly as he watched a young couple stagger out the door and down the street.

"Keep watching." Johnny spoke in his quiet voice. "It might be more interesting than you think."

Bobby sighed, but kept his eye focused where Johnny had set the view. "What am I looking for Johnny?" He asked, but he could hear his friend gulping on the beer, and before he could answer a shiny, black Lincoln Continental pulled up to the curb in front of the bar. "Now that sticks out like a fucking straight man in a gay bar." He muttered, about to describe the sight to his friend.

"All Lincolns in this neighborhood stick out." Johnny commented. "That's how I heard about this one." He laughed quietly. "Rumor has it that Victor Sweet answered to someone, did you know that?" He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sure, good ole' Vic took over his Uncle's business after offing the fucker, but his Uncle's dealings were part of a bigger business. He was high up in the system, but he wasn't the top man. So Victor didn't get to keep all of his profits, and he didn't run the whole show. If you think about it, it makes more sense than Victor Sweet having enough brains to operate the way he did. I mean, he was no idiot, but he didn't have the brains to play his cards so fucking well, think about it."

Bobby turned and glanced at Johnny, not sure how he knew the shit he knew sometimes. He turned back to watch the rear door of the car open. The man to climb out of the back seat was wearing expensive looking clothes, and a cowboy hat. His face wasn't clear until he turned and reached back into the car to assist the woman who was following him. Bobby felt his stomach leap into his throat as his mind told him this couldn't be possible. His hand reached for a knob to zoom in a little better on the man's features. "What the fuck?" He barely got the words out as recognition took hold. "That's impossible."

"Looks like some people just don't like to die." Johnny muttered from behind Bobby. "So, who the hell you think might know what Macks knew? Who do you think Harris is after? That man right there, he's the one you need to take down. You take him down and you will take Harris down with him."

Bobby watched the ghost of Jessup Winston walk through the door of the bar with the woman at his side. "Shit. How in the hell did he survive the explosion? They pulled a damn body out of the ashes and they identified it as Winston's."

"Sure they did." Johnny laughed. "He's not as stupid as he played out to be. He suffered a big loss, he lost all of his legitimate business dealings, and he has always kept himself separated from the real dirty shit that he's involved in by having others run it. He was on his way to jail unless he turned up dead. He wasn't as stupid as Macks took him for, and he wasn't as timid as Sweet took him to be. In fact, he was Sweet's boss in recent years. No one who works for him really knows who they're working for. So, for him to work for his own employees, keeping his hands in the business end of his operation gave him some insight into what his people were doing. The sad part is, according to my sources, he really didn't want to mess with you." Johnny laughed. "Word has it he liked you. He didn't like Macks."

Bobby stared at the empty exterior of the bar as the Lincoln pulled away from the curb. He finally managed to rip his attention away from the scene and turned to look at Johnny. "How did you know about him?"

Johnny took another drink of the beer. "You had to buy the cheap shit, didn't you?" He looked down at the beer and then back to Bobby.

"Don't start bullshitting me after all of these years Johnny. If no one knows about him, how the hell did you find out about him?" Bobby could feel his heart bulging under his chest, something close to indigestion.

"There's a guy that comes into my place, likes to pick up odd jobs. He's worked for Sweet a few times in the past, and he had overheard phone conversations. He also knew that the 'Big Boss' died a few years back, but someone stepped into his shoes, gave people like Sweet more freedom, but still ran each operation from out of town somewhere." He kept his voice quiet as he looked up into the few bits of starlight visible.

"Okay, Johnny, you need to tell me everything you know. How the hell did Jessup Winston walk away from that warehouse explosion?" Bobby stepped over to Johnny and snatched beer from his hands. He took a long chug off of the bottle. He had a feeling he was going to need something a little bit stronger than cheap beer by the end of the night.


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry it's been so long guys, last week was a very long week! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and please let me know what you think :)

Still don't own, still make no money.

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**Chapter 16: Drowning**

The night seemed to press down on Bobby Mercer as he walked towards the only real home he had ever known. The empty beer bottle he'd helped Johnny drain was still wrapped tight in the brown paper bag and hung from his left hand like a lead weight. He wanted to throw it at something, maybe one of the cars passing by carrying dry and warm occupants to their destination, or perhaps one of the many warm and cozy houses he passed as he walked through the wet icy streets.

He imagined these houses lining the streets were full of kids and parents being real families and going about their lives with no worries. No fear of a pervert breaking their hearts by stealing one of their kids, or crooked cops arresting one of them or taking their lives with bullets, or total strangers ripping their homes apart and dragging them each off into separate corners of the world. Bobby couldn't help but want to take some of his rage out on the walls separating these lucky families from the real world, from his world and his life.

It wasn't raining, exactly. There was a fine mist rising and falling in different directions in front of him, dancing to an unheard rhythm and frosting the metal lamp posts and street signs he passed. His exhaled breath seemed to join the dance of moist cold surrounding him. It wasn't rain, or sleet or snow, but it was icing over and left him feeling soaked through by the time he reached the corner down the street from his mother's home. He could see Jeremiah's car parked out in front, even from a block away, and that meant Jack was home. Hell, most of his brothers were there, waiting on his return; hoping he had some kind of news that could give them all hope. He knew this for a fact because he'd had the same hope that Johnny would have some kind of miracle answer for him, like he used to all of those years ago.

Instead of hope he'd found himself being sucked down in a deep fucking hole and he was about to drag his brothers down into that hole with him. He couldn't help but feel as if Jessup Winston was standing over a gab in the earth that was swallowing him up, dumping dirt in on top of him. The sorry son of a bitch was alive, and he was behind the dirty operation that had killed his mother, ruined his brother's business dealings more than once, nearly killed Jack, and had ripped Craig away from the protection of his home and family.

Bobby stood there, staring at the glow of the lights in the front window, it was dim, but every so often he could see a shadow moving, a faint difference in contrast and color. They were waiting and hoping, and he was going to disappoint them. He only had more problems to lie at their feet, no answers.

"Guess what guys; Jessup Winston is the son of a fucking gang lord, and the night he helped Macks blow up the warehouse he wasn't killed like we all thought. No, hell, he found some homeless shit and tossed his sorry ass into the fire to burn. He's alive and he's after our fucking family because Macks died with information that could be worth millions of dollars to him." Bobby spoke into the dark street as if he were practicing some long, rehearsed speech. "He probably would have let us be if it hadn't been for Macks dying on him like he did. Hell, Macks didn't even know he was trying to kill his own boss when he set Winston up, now if that ain't ironic." He forced a laugh as his grip on the beer bottle tightened. "Winston really liked us, thought we needed a fucking break, but he still let Macks fuck with us!" He yelled the words as the glass under the brown paper buckled under his rage and shattered. He thrust the bag hard into the street as shards of glass cut through the paper and sliced into the palm of his hand.

The sudden pain would normally have brought on a long string of four letter words that would have made any sailor proud; but at this very moment it filled Bobby Mercer with a strange feeling of warm calm. He looked at his hand and sucked in a deep breath. His chest was aching, and his mind was pulsing with a hard thudding. He didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do. His brain had been churning the information around in his head, trying to figure out a way to get close to Winston; some way of putting a bullet in his head. Hell, if he'd had a gun with him on the roof he probably would have done that.

The only problem was the man wasn't Jessup Winston, not anymore, and Bobby had no way of knowing where to find him. He knew how to find people, but his mind was tired and he was growing wearing of the fighting and struggling just to find a small bit of normalcy in his family and in his life. There was nothing to use to track Winston down, except for the bar that he liked to frequent, and even though that normally would have been enough for Bobby Mercer, somehow it seemed like so little at that moment. Johnny didn't know what name he was going by.

Jessup Winston had planned his demise well, taking on an identity that no one seemed to notice. Hell, it may have been a double life that he'd been living for years, a second name he'd already been using in other areas of his life that allowed him to slip out of Jessup Winston's life so easily. He may have lost his legitimate business dealings but he'd avoided jail, he'd managed to keep his life style, his money, and his hold over the criminal element. He had people under him like Harris. People so far up in the government that he was untouchable. Sweet was one thing, he was local, but Winston, hell, his dealings were nationwide. Johnny had checked into the connections Winston had and they reached as far as the west coast. How the hell could four brothers from Detroit fight against someone that big and powerful?

Bobby Mercer wasn't normally one to back down from a fight, but he was starting to feel like he was drowning in an ocean, separated from the rest of his family by the fact that he was the oldest and he was supposed to have the answers. He would have to leave Jack's fate in the hands of Bradford, Green and Johnson. If his brother was going to get out of a murder charge, it was in their hands, Bobby had no way of helping because Harris was after his ass too, and that ate at his insides like an infestation. He was supposed to be the one who fixed shit with his family. He was the oldest; he was the big brother to all of them.

Except Craig, hell, he was more than a brother to Craig. Craig was his, but it seemed he'd lost him too. He prayed that Bradford and Green had both been able to find out something about where his baby brother had been taken. He didn't understand how Children's Services could allow Harris to influence them so easily. If he couldn't get him back soon, he wanted to at least see him, and be able to tell him that everything was going to be okay. Even if he knew deep down it was a lie, he had to say it to the kid. Craig was probably falling apart by now. He wondered if he had eaten dinner. What the hell was he going through; he didn't have the medication that he needed to make it through a normal day. How would he manage to sleep that night? Bobby had planned on getting him exhausted by bed time, but that was out of his hands now. Too much shit was out of his hands now. He had not control over his family and it was driving him crazy. He didn't like not having the control.

Bobby stared at the lights of home for a half a heartbeat longer before dragging his feet along with him towards it. He needed to let his brothers know about Jessup Winston being the next ghost to rise from the dead. He needed to get their opinions and their ideas; maybe it was the only way to get his mind clear and on the right track. One thing that he had learned in the recent weeks was that as a family the Mercers did better when they thought shit through together. He was sure that somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear Evelyn Mercer saying something along the same line, something about brothers being there to support you and back you up. Until recently Bobby Mercer thought he was the one that had to hold all of his brothers up; that he had to be the one to do all of the supporting and backing up. If it hadn't been for his brothers though, he wasn't sure he would have had the strength to make it past all of the barriers that had been thrown in their way recently.

At some point it all had to end, and until then, Bobby Mercer was determined to keep fighting. He was going to keep fighting for what was his; his family and their freedom was all that mattered to him right then. They all had worked too damn hard for it to be ripped out from under them now. One way or another, his brothers were going to get past this and survive as a family, even if it killed him.

The air felt thick and heavy when Bobby stepped through the front door. The weight of the silence was enough to drown in and Bobby hated it. He slammed the door hard to make sure he could still hear. The sound of chairs scrapping against the floor in the dining room eased his nerves slightly, at least until he looked up and to see Jack's expectant eyes rounding the doorway to the entrance hall from the kitchen, as if his little brother was sure he was going to have all of the answers to get them all out of the mess they were in.

"Well?" Angel was the one who spoke from just behind Jack.

"Well, my day just keeps getting better and better." Bobby walked up to Jack and he gave him a quick hug and pat on his shoulder. "You doin' okay Jackie? You survived a few hours with no damage, right?" He tried to sound as if he were being his normal asshole self, but he had been worried, more than he'd ever dare to let anyone else be aware. He was the oldest, and despite learning to let his brothers bare part of the burdens with him, he still had that nagging need to project himself as impenetrable. Nothing could faze him, and the need for that appearance was written all over Jack's face right then.

Bobby quickly clutched his fist at his side, trying to hide the bloody cut in his palm under his fingers. The pain was minimal, but the blood was there, and he knew his brothers would make too big of a deal out of it if they noticed.

"I'm fine." Jack spoke quietly, his eyes fixed on Bobby. "I have a hearing." His words seemed strained as he explained that he would have to face an attorney from the D.A's office, as well as a judge, to determine if there was enough evidence against Jack Mercer to press the matter further. "Bradford claims with Johnson and Green's statements that there's no case." He sounded as if he needed some kind of validation from his big brother.

Bobby forced one of his smart assed smiles, trying to think of something off the top of his head that could cut some of the tension in the air surrounded his little brother. "Hell Jack, you ain't got anything to worry about. I'm sure if you suck enough cocks on the way to the courthouse you'll get out of this mess." He could have smacked himself in the back of the head the second the words escaped his mouth. Hell, he had been trying to cut back on the gay jokes the past few days, he figured it was the least he could do for the brother that had saved his life, but it was so damn hard.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "That ain't funny Bobby." His voice felt like steel on Bobby's ears.

"Come on man; don't start that shit with him, not now." Jeremiah spoke from next to Angel, who was leaning against the wall next to Jack. "We need to get serious here Bobby. What the hell did you find out, anything that will help us out?"

Bobby turned and maneuvered his legs around the doorway to the living room. "You all might as well sit your asses down now." He called back to them when he realized no one was following him.

Bobby dropped down into the red chair closest to the foyer and the front door. He felt a little better knowing he was close to an easy escape route, just in case he ran his mouth again. He was sure Jack was ready to punch him. Hell, he understood why. Jack was expecting an easy answer, and what he'd gotten, basically, was a confirmation that the whole mess was beyond his older brother's grasp. He hated letting Jack down that way, hell, he hated letting his whole family down that way, and it caused a pain in his gut that he had never really felt before.

Bobby Mercer had always been driven by the desire to never let another human being hurt him again. Having his family safe kept him from hurting. Having his family happy kept him from hurting. Having the strength, and some control over being able to keep his family whole and happy was all that he asked of God, it really was. Somehow at that moment he felt as if his family was being ripped apart, and God had let him down horribly. He felt an anger building inside, an anger focused towards the God his mother had felt so close to.

It had been a challenge for Bobby to allow his self to believe in a God that was so damn cruel. He didn't understand how God could take an innocent child and plunge them into a living hell. He'd seen too many kids being beaten on a daily basis, by foster parents, or real parents, or family members that were supposed to be taking care of them. Kids being abused by the people that they were supposed to be able to trust, hell, Bobby had been one of those kids. Of course as soon as he was old enough to fight back he was a juvenile delinquent. He knew his brothers had all suffered similarly in the foster care system. Sure, not all homes were bad, but there were those out there that, until they were found, continued to cycle innocent kids through their doors, subjecting them to anything from being locked in a closet for hours to being beaten and abused.

Bobby had sworn that no one in his family, none of his brothers, would ever be touched or threatened in the ways they had been as children. He had made that promise to each of them as they became a part of his family. If he didn't say it to their face, he promised it to them in his mind, and he had, so far, managed to keep that promise, even when it seemed to be impossible.

Now as he looked into the eyes of the three brothers in front of him, he could picture how they had looked years before, younger and frightened. Fear, that's what he'd never wanted to see in their eyes again, and this was the first real fear he'd seen in any of them in recent weeks. Sure, they had been afraid when they dealt with Sweet, and with Macks, but at the time, they had all felt they could beat it, at least once they knew Jack was going to survive his injuries. Now it looked as if they all felt the same defeat that was eating away at Bobby's resolve. They were all tired and worn down.

As Bobby stared into their waiting gazes, the knowledge that someone had managed to force his brothers to give up, to make them feel this way fueled the anger that was growing in him. Hell, no one was going to control his family like this. His brothers had refused to give him enough control that he could manipulate them like this, why the hell were they allowing some ass hole like Winston, or Harris to do it?

Bobby sucked in a deep breath. "Okay, we got some heavy shit to deal with. But we're gonna deal with it." He looked at Jack, suddenly feeling some kind of energy deep within, rising up and tingling at every nerve in his body. "You ain't fucking going to jail. I'll shoot the first fucker who tries to put cuffs on you again, you got that? I know people and places where you'll be safe if it comes to that Jack." He nodded his head as his mind started working full speed and he came out of the funky haze he'd been drifting in since he spoke with Johnny. He looked from Jack to Jeremiah, and then to Angel. "We need to find Jessup Winston and find out what the fuck he wants from us."

"Jessup Winston is dead Bobby." Angel gave Bobby a pointed glare while he dropped into the couch next to Jack.

"Yeah, well, I thought so too, but when I seen him tonight he was breathing pretty damn good for a dead man." Bobby met Angel's eyes and tried to hold back the fury that was raging inside.

"You saw him." It was Jeremiah who spoke while Angel processed the words Bobby had fired at him.

"Yeah, little brother, I saw him." Bobby leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees but keeping his bleeding hand down out of view.

"You looked him in the face and you are sure it was Winston?" Jeremiah slid down onto the coffee table, leaning towards his brother, looking nervous, scared and almost thrilled at the same time.

"Well, no, not right in the face. I was on the roof." Bobby leaned forward a little more, closer to Jeremiah.

Jeremiah grimaced as if he were in pain. "A roof; you seen him from a roof?" He looked as if he wanted to reach out and knock the shit out of his older brother. "What the fuck Bobby, you can't be sure it was Jessup Winston then, you have no idea what the hell you're talking about…." He started a nonstop tirade of angry words, as if he was unable to hold in his own frustration and anger.

Bobby pulled back, looking at Jeremiah's eyes, though he was lost on the words spilling out of him. His brother's eyes looked hollow somehow. Either Jeremiah was taking the events of their day worse than he'd expected or there was more shit going on with him than Bobby knew. The man thought about it as Jeremiah continued to ramble on about dead men staying dead and gangsters leaving the Mercer family the fuck alone. It was the word 'family' that stabbed at Bobby. Hell, Jeremiah's family was not limited to only his brothers. He had a wife and two daughters to deal with and worry about. All of the pressure of being sucked into the problems of his brothers couldn't be making his life any easier.

Bobby waited until it seemed Jeremiah was fairly empty of any more words before he drew in a deep breath. "I seen him up close Jerry. Telescopes tend to give a damn good view." He kept his voice calm, seeing the tension in his brothers take a hard hold. "Look, Johnny did some digging and he found out a few things. You ready to listen yet or do you need some more time to throw another tantrum?" He kept his focus on Jerry.

Jeremiah's shoulders slumped. "I need to call Camille." The words sounded forced.

"You okay Jerr'?" Bobby asked quietly, knowing his brother too well to believe everything was okay, no matter how Jeremiah might answer him.

"Yeah, man, I'll be fine. I just have to tell my wife, again, that I'm gonna be hanging around here for the night, again." Jerry disappeared into the dining room.

Jack and Angel both made themselves comfortable on the couch. Jack seemed to be soaking everything in, but he still looked scared. Angel looked the same as Bobby felt, pissed.

When Jeremiah returned several minutes later, Bobby sucked in a deep breath and shared with his brothers the story that Johnny had told him just a short time before, on the roof of the building his father had once owned.

Bobby shared with them how Jessup Winston had been inherited the life and riches of a notorious gang lord father that he barely knew. How it had put him in charge of an operation that ran drugs and prostitution rings across the entire country. He had been Sweet's boss, though Sweet didn't know it. Jessup Winston had found that the best way to keep the law off of his back was to let them believe he was a small time crook, a bored millionaire with legitimate businesses that liked to dabble in some unlawful business for excitement. It kept him anonymous to all, the men who worked for him and the law who was coming after him.

"So, what name is he going by now?" Angel asked.

Bobby sucked a deep breath. "Don't know." He muttered.

"If he was operating this nationwide mafia in an anonymous manner, then how the hell does Johnny know who he is? How the hell did Johnny know where he would be tonight?" Angel pushed, his voice holding sarcasm. He still didn't believe any of it was possible.

"He couldn't tell me much about how he found out." Bobby shook his head. "Some guy who comes into the bar did some jobs for Sweet before, he overheard phone conversations and Johnny was able to track a few things down. I don't know how Johnny knows half the shit he knows and I don't care. He's never wrong about the shit he tells me."

Angel shook his head slowly. "I don't like this. I don't like it at all."

"Look, we got one thing on our side. Jessup Winston liked us." Bobby laughed quietly but not for long. He closed his eyes and tried to think out loud. "Maybe we can get close to him, talk to him and find out what the fuck he's after."

"Get close to him? He's the one tearing the shit out of our family and you think you can talk to him?" Angel cried out.

"He tried to warn us." Jeremiah stood and paced the floor slowly. "The night Macks blew up my fucking future, Winston tried to warn us." He reminded them of the message Winston had left on his phone. "He didn't want us dead."

"No, he didn't want Macks dead, he didn't give a rat's ass about us; he just wanted to keep Macks clean and under his control." Angel spoke too loud. "We didn't trust Winston before and there was a reason for that."

Bobby nodded his head. "I should have put a bullet in his brain when I wanted to, I know that." He finally looked at Angel. "I didn't and now we got this shit to deal with. I know that. I've been thinking about that Angel." He couldn't hold his anger in. "You don't have to throw that in my face now."

Angel's expression changed slightly. "I ain't throwin' nothing in your face big brother. Hell, if I recall, I was one of the people who talked you out of offin' the fucker." He stood and walked up to Jeremiah, stopping his pacing abruptly. "Would you stop the walking? It's getting on my nerves."

There was quiet for what seemed an eternity, as each of the men seemed caught in their own cycle of thought.

"What about Craig? Did anyone find anything out about where the hell he is right now?" Bobby asked once the air started growing thick around him again. He knew lingering on Winston would do no one any good at the moment. Yes, they would have to deal with the man, but not at that moment, and he wanted to know what was going on with his kid. He needed to know how soon he would be able to see him and get him home.

Bobby looked at Jack for a long moment and then up to Angel and Jeremiah. "What the hell is going on with Craig? What is it?" He wanted to stand but the creases that seemed to cross over Jeremiah's eyes and brow told him the news wasn't good and he'd probably be better off to remain seated.


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks all for reading, and special thanks to those who review, you guys are the greatest! Let me know what you think :)

Still don't own, still make no money

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**Chapter 17: Dr. Joyce Payne**

Craig listened while Harris spoke about him owing it to his dead father to tell the truth, insinuating that he had lied when he'd given his statement before. Craig bit at the inside of his lip and he scratched at the itch that was rising on the inside of his right arm. He kept his eyes fixed on the edge of the table, avoiding the man's cold stare. He glanced at the door a few times, thinking he heard Bobby's voice on the other side of it and at any moment his brother would burst into the room and he'd be able to go home.

Harris shoved the pad of paper across the table once again and smacked it hard with the palm of his hand, the force of the smack vibrating through the table. "I can do this all night young man. All you have to do to get out of this room is start writing."

Craig bit harder on the inside of his lip. "Go to hell." He muttered, trying not to flinch as the intimidating man rounded the table and moved towards him. Instincts took over and Craig stood, pulling away from Harris just as the man reached to grab hold of him. He didn't have any place to go except back into the corner. "Don't touch me you son of a bitch." He barely managed to choke the words out. The fear had been growing as he'd been subjected to more and more of Harris' threats and now his resolve to defy the FBI guy's orders was weakening.

Somewhere in the back of the boy's mind a voice was telling him that he might as well do what Harris wanted him to. Write down his statement and give him what he wanted. That way they could drag him off to a strange town and throw him into the same system that had failed him when he was five years old. It seemed a better fate than being thrown in Juvi' and locked away, or feeling the anger that was radiating from the ass hole. He'd felt too much anger in his fourteen years and he was tired of hurting all of the time.

Harris didn't come towards him, instead he snatched up the metal chair Craig had been sitting in and slammed it hard into the wall just to Craig's right side. He yelled out, loud and mean as the legs of the chair gave way to the cement they were being slammed into. The sound was a mixture of Harris' yell, metal grinding against cement and Craig cry of fear as he pulled back as far as he could into the cold concrete until his muscles ached from the effort.

Craig's arms shot up to protect his head and he felt his legs grow weak. He dropped down to the floor as the chair swung towards the wall to his left. He pressed himself hard into the corner and cried out as the fears of his father boiled to the surface of his consciousness. He had managed to let go of those fears for a few days, or so he'd thought. Apparently they were still there, lying dormant, waiting for a moment such as this to burst forth and take control of him all over again. He wanted Bobby to come for him and take away the fears and the threat looming above him. "Leave me alone!" He cried out, no longer able to hold in the storm of emotions that he'd been holding in since he'd been grabbed out in front of his home while he watched Jack being handcuffed; emotions that had been generating the old familiar grey haze that could keep him safe, though he'd been struggling against falling into the old traps that had controlled him for so many years.

The remains of the chair crashed to the floor directly in front of him and hands grabbed hold of his arms, hauling him up. "You want to do this the hard way kid? Fine, we will do it your way." Harris gave him a hard push into the corner and held him there. Craig was certain that he was about to get the shit beat out of him. He braced himself for bruises or broken bones. By the look on Harris' face the man was quite capable of breaking bones, in his hand maybe, or some ribs. His mind seemed to be calmly measuring up the extent of the damage it was about to suffer while he stared into Harris' wild looking eyes. He was not going to find out how accurate his annalysis was though, it seemed in a matter of two seconds the door opened and William and Jim stepped into the room. "Harris, what the hell are you doing?" Jim spoke quickly.

"Get him over to St. Vincent's. I want him restrained and kept separate from the residents there. He's to be brought back here first thing in the morning." Harris gave the boy a hard jerk out of the corner and shoved him across the room into William's hold. "If he causes any problems you have their resident doctor sedate him. If he gives you any problems before you get him there, you sedate him yourself."

"We'll have him back here as soon as he's finished his breakfast, boss." William spoke calmly and the hold he took up on Craig's arm was much kinder than Harris'.

"No breakfast, William. You have him back in this room by seven o'clock in the morning." Harris pushed his way past the other two men and the boy without saying another word.

Jim looked at William and let out a loud sigh. "Well, you get him to the car, I'll call ahead and let St. Vincent's know we are bringing in a runaway with a history of mental problems."

Craig's ears started ringing loudly, blocking out the rest of Jim's statement. In the same moment he felt William pull his arms behind his back and handcuffs being snapped around his wrists. He felt his lungs empty out as he screamed out and tried to pull away from William. He hadn't planned on fighting them, and it surprised him almost as much as it surprise the men who he was quickly coming to understand were nothing than guards. An arm quickly enclosed around the boy's throat, pulling Craig back into William. Hands grabbed his arms and despite the fact that Craig was kicking out he was lifted off of the floor, causing him to choke from the arm holding him back.

"You calm down Craig. You are only going to make it worse on yourself." Jim yelled the words.

Craig heard the words and even understood the meaning, but he couldn't stop his actions, he was losing control over what he was thinking and feeling. The only thing he could focus on was that he wanted to go home. He wanted to be with Bobby, Angel and Jack, and even Jeremiah. He wanted to argue with Bobby and know that he wasn't going to win. He wanted to be made to take his medication and eat and nap in the afternoon, no matter how pissed it made him to be forced to do all of it. He wanted his brother, the one who had turned into his father and he wanted to feel safe again. He'd felt afraid for so long that he'd been unsure of the safe feeling he'd experience for the short time that had passed between Adam's death and Harris' invasion of his family. Now it seemed he'd never feel that safety of home and family ever again.

He could hear Jim and William yelling at him, telling him what to do and warning him that he wasn't going to be given a second chance. He couldn't stop his tears and his struggles. He tried to break free, despite the fact that he knew it was useless. He kicked and he tried to lung forward no matter how much it hurt and choked at him, and he repeated the actions over and over again, his yells turning to screams, vibrating against his throat and releasing more energy than he'd been aware that he was holding in.

The needle stabbing into his arm came as a surprise, though it shouldn't have, and the almost instant lightheadedness that followed was intense. If William hadn't held him on his feet he would have fallen on his face and let the world spin wildly around him. Instead he was forced to walk out of the room and down the hall. After the hallway everything became a blur until he was in the car and the seatbelt was being tightened across his lap. His head fell back against the seat and William sat next to him holding onto his arm. Never mind the fact that the teenager's hands were handcuffed behind him, or that he had been shot full of something that made him feel groggy and weak and dizzy, the man next to him felt the need to hold onto his arm as if he might miraculously slip out of his cuffs, wake up enough to think straight and dive for the locked door that could not be unlocked from the back seat.

Craig felt his eyes slam shut on him and the grey fog of safety was closing in around him. He was remembering the peace the fog brought with it and was ready to welcome it, allow it to embrace him and sooth away the raw, exposed nerves that were throbbing beneath his skin. As his mind started to shut down and blank out he was sure he heard the voice of Bobby Mercer telling him he was stronger than he thought and he could handle a hell of a lot. He'd already made it through much worse. He just had to stick it out a little while longer and he'd be okay. His brothers would come for him.

Harris had told him his brothers wouldn't be coming; they were all going to jail. His life was falling apart and he was never going to see his home or his family again. He was going to be locked up and lost somewhere in the dark and no one was going to miss him or care. He ached for the touch of his mother and the sound of Bobby's voice. He wanted one or both of them, despite knowing that having either of them was never going to happen. Behind his eyes he tried to picture his mother, tried to remember the way she could sooth away the nightmares and the pain. He mentally strained to feel her and hear her the way he had when he'd needed her before. He tried to summon Bobby to him, as he had when his father had locked him away in the basement at that farm. Instead he found himself drifting into a black void, unaware of what was happening around him.

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Dr. Joyce Payne sighed as she closed the file in front of her on the desk. Another teenager on drugs or another teenager whose parents have grown tired of acting like they cared. A girl whose mother decided her boyfriend was more important, or a boy whose parents were so far lost to drugs they forgot they ever had a son. The kids who passed through her office were not the norm as far as foster care went. All of these kids had been hurt or suffered a tragic loss, but it was the worst of cases that she was blessed with. It broke her heart how the numbers seemed to increase every year. More and more she was getting not only the same kids repeatedly, but new kids, younger kids. Younger maybe, but not always so innocent; those was her thoughts as she reached for the next file which had her working past ten o'clock at night. Ten year old girl, in foster care for three months, tried to stab her teacher. Of course, she was at St. Vincent's now, but only until Juvenile authorities could find an opening at one of their higher security facilities. No hearing for her, no trial. She was under age, and in Joyce Payne's professional opinion, she was better off at the county's mental health clinic, in house care of course. She was suffering from the same kind of mental disorders that afflicted soldiers returning from combat. Not surprising since she had witnessed the beating and subsequent death of her mother by the hand of a strung out druggie. Why she hadn't been brought in for proper help from the start was a question Joyce was planning on pursuing. This little girl was going to have to spend the rest of her childhood locked up in a mental ward because she was not diagnosed and handled with some love and care during the most tragic times in her life. The worst of it was that this was not the first or last time a child would slip through the cracks only to be classified as a danger, or a criminal.

Tears prickled at the corners of the doctor's eyes but she refused to let any of them shed. The years she had spent behind that desk seemed to press down on her. Case workers no longer worked with her the way they used to. They worked against her now. The younger breeds would prefer to consider the children under their watch more of a terror than a victim. They were afraid of these kids because they didn't know how to read them or relate to them. At one time the case workers brought in by Social Services were able to look beyond the tough skins the kids wore and see the hurt and fear underneath. It was no longer a mission for them, it was a job and they only went through the barest of motions to get it done quickly so they could move on.

Evelyn Mercer's face popped into her head and she had to smile at the memory of her old friend. Evelyn had ten years on her and sometimes she could figure out what was going on with a kid better than the good doctor herself. She remembered when Evelyn had brought Jack to her for an analysis. Hell, Evelyn already had his problems pinpointed, and Joyce had struggled with getting any kind of hint that there was a problem. Jack hadn't told Evelyn anything, but the woman seemed to look into a child's soul and know what was damaged. She had done it with her three oldest as well, but they had come before Joyce's time.

Joyce had heard all about Evelyn Mercer's family though. Evelyn was proud of each of her sons, and bragged about them nonstop. That was how Joyce had been certain she was the one case worker she wanted to take on the six year old, nearly catatonic Craig when he was brought in from the hospital still healing from the beating his foster father had inflicted on him. She wanted Craig to have the best care and that wasn't about to come from the first caseworker who had been assigned to his file. If his first caseworker had given a shit about him he would have never been in a foster home before seeing Joyce Payne at St. Vincent's. The child had witnessed his father killing his mother, and then had nearly suffered the same fate when he was shot in the back by the maniac. How the hell had he ended up deep in the system without Dr. Payne having her time with him? She still didn't understand that one, but it wasn't an unusual case and the proof of that fact was spread out in front of her in many different colored file folders.

Joyce gave her head a slight shake and tried to concentrate on the file in front of her. She had to get the new kids processed through so she could get out of there and get home. Her daughter was supposed to visit the following day and she didn't want to leave any avenue open for the old retirement debate that her loving child seemed to always bring up. No, she was not ready to retire. She couldn't help but feel that she had more work to do in her life and this was her life. Sure, the long hours were starting to get to her, she was getting older, but that didn't diminish the love of the job, the love of her kids.

A wisp of graying chestnut hair, more grey than chestnut, swung loose from the pin holding it just at her left ear. She lifted her hand to pull it back and tuck it back into place just as the door on the other end of the hall swung open. She had a good view across the open ledge that separated her work station from the rest of the ward. Her office was behind her, locked up tight. The only use her office served was for the private sessions she pulled the kids in for. She greatly preferred working on her case files at the counter where a clear, thick plastic barrier provided a view of her patients as well as the rest of the floor. She liked to be out in the open where she could keep an eye on what was going on and the activity at the end of the hall was a good example of why. She stood and walked to the end of the counter where the wall met up to her office and gave way to the exit into the hall.

Two men wearing dark suites were pulling what appeared to be a strung out drug addict down the tiles. "Excuse me, may I help you?" Joyce called as soon as the door swung closed behind her. Getting back in would require a key, which was in the right hand pocket of the dark blue dress slacks she'd rushed into that morning.

The burly man with the larger stomach seemed to be holding the boy with a little more compassion than the shorter, slimmer jerk who simply had a grasp of the kid's arm that looked as if it would leave bruises.

It was the larger guy who flashed a quick smile as his partner let go of the kid and stepped closer to her while he flashed a badge. "We are with Children's Services, out of Oakland County, the Southfield office to be more exact." The smaller man snapped the words without as much as meeting Joyce Payne's gaze. "We have a runaway juvenile that we managed to track down and pick up just outside of Allen Park. We need to house him for the night before we return him to Southfield."

Joyce sighed slightly. "One of you would be his case worker?" Something seemed off with the whole situation. Sure, St. Vincent's had been used by neighboring agencies in the past, but usually it was never spur of the moment, and the idea that social workers would be out chasing down a unruly runaway was highly unusual, that was left up to the police.

"I am; you can call me William." The larger man spoke with a strain to his voice, though he was trying to sound pleasant, the weight that he was holding, the boy, was obviously more than he was used to. "Do you have a room I can put him in?"

Joyce shook his head. "This is highly unusual, and it has to be cleared with the director of the facility. That would not be me." She shook her head as questions started popping into her brain. "How did you get past Security downstairs?"

"We had clearance from your director." The smaller man who had shown her his I.D. sounded irritated. James, she was sure that was the name on the identification, but it had been flashed too quickly for her to be certain.

Of course it did make sense that the director had cleared them, or they probably would never have gotten past Charlie downstairs. The man was very particular about following rules. "If the staff was aware that you would be coming then I'm sure they have already made arrangements. They should have met you downstairs. He can't be on this floor, this is only for…"

"The security risks," James finished her thought for her.

"The troubled teens that are confined for their own protection," Joyce amended the statement quickly, she didn't like the tone in the man's voice, he sounded too pissed at the moment to be dealing with a youngster. "The security risks are housed on the second floor." She couldn't quite keep the irritation out of her own voice. Her kids were not juvenile delinquents they were troubled kids who had been given a raw deal and needed some help to cope with their situations. "I'm sure if you go back down the stairs one floor you will find someone is there looking for you."

"No, ma-am, we will not. We are here to secure this boy on your ward." William managed to spill the words out before James could make the smart assed remark that was on his lips. Joyce was pretty good at picking the ass holes out of a group and James seemed to be the ass hole if she had to choose between the two at the moment.

"The director never contacted me about this." Joyce looked at the boy and was about to argue the fact again, but there was a familiar curve to the small jaw that was tilted down to the boy's chest. She couldn't see him very well in the dim lighting that was prevalent in the halls at night.

Joyce Payne had learned years before how to trust her gut, and at the moment it was telling her to go along with these men. "What is wrong with the boy?" She slipped her fingers under the chin and lifted slightly.

Craig Mercer's face came into view and Joyce bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from gasping. In the dim light her mind tried to tell her this couldn't possibly be one of her former residents, whom she had seen just a week earlier in the office of the D. A., it had to be her mind playing tricks on her. She had just been thinking about her late friend Evelyn, and remembering the encounter she'd had with Craig eight years earlier, not to mention her acting as child advocate while he gave a statement to the District Attorney with the hollow promise that it would help put Bradley Jordan in prison for the act of kidnapping and rape. She tried to convince herself the shadows were playing across the boy's face in a deceptive fashion, but deep inside she knew who this child was.

"He has a problem with drugs." William's words came quickly.

What the hell were these men doing with Craig Mercer? How did they get him and what the hell had they done to him? It took a certain amount of control for Joyce not to start asking questions as the anger rose inside of her. Instead she decided to play along and get Craig settled into a bed. The men were not going to be near him all night long, it was obvious in the way they carried themselves that they were planning on dropping this child off for the night, with plans of coming back for him at the crack of dawn. "Okay, I have a room available down here."

Joyce turned and started walking down the hall at a slow gate. She listened for the sounds of being followed before she picked up her pace and turned the corner leading to the hallway containing the empty room she was referring to. She opened the security door by scanning her badge. The lights came on when the motion detector picked up the movement in the cramped room. "Right here," She pointed to the door and stepped out of the way to give William space to pull the limp boy to the bed.

"Help me with his shoes Jim." William spoke with a huff.

Joyce made a mental note that 'James' went by the name 'Jim'. She watched over Jim's shoulders while the men removed the boy's shoes and shirt. William was reaching to remove his pants when she spoke up quickly. "You know that is against the law." She tried to hold in the anger. You are not allowed to remove his clothing without following the proper protocol. I will bring a pair of pajamas and our resident medical doctor, and it will be done by the book gentlemen, or you will leave him dressed as is for the night."

William and Jim looked at each other for a long moment before turning to her. "Okay, we will leave him in your care until morning." Jim remarked quickly. "He is a flight risk. This door will remain locked, yes?"

"None of the doors on this ward are left unlocked. As you could see the only way to access the rooms is with a security card." Joyce held her own badge up for effect. "He will not be able to leave the room; however we are required to give him a medical exam, just the basics, to ensure he is healthy and not injured in any way." It was bull, but she thought it sounded good. Everything about these men screamed cop, not Social Services, and they didn't seem to be very smart cops either.

William nodded his head. "He's fine; he's just gotten himself stoned. We cannot risk him getting out of this room, um, what is your name?"

"Dr. Joyce Payne, the resident psychologist." Joyce tried to keep the ice out of her voice, though her heart was chilling to these men quickly.

"No one is to enter this room until we return in the morning." Jim snapped. "Is that understood, Dr. Joyce Payne?"

"There is protocol that must be followed, gentlemen." Joyce could feel her anger starting to overpower her control and had to put it in check quickly before she scared these men out of leaving the boy with her. "Okay, listen, we can bend the rules and delay the exam until you return in the morning. The medical doctor would appreciate not being called in this time of night." She waved her hand as if dismissing the idea, though her intentions were far from calling a doctor.

Both men seemed satisfied. As long as Joyce Payne acted as if she were ignorant to their deception, she was going to manage to get them out of there quickly. They warned her once more that their charge was to remain locked behind the door until they returned, and she agreed, stating that once her relief came in for the night that she would leave strict instructions not to open the door for any reason.

It seemed as if the men raced for the exit once they seemed confident that she was the idiot they had hoped she would be. Instead of heading back to her paperwork, Joyce Payne walked down the hall to the neighboring ward and checked in with the staff, informing them that she was planning on being there most of the night and there would be no reason for them to do the rounds until she told them otherwise. She stuck close to the security monitor until she was certain she seen the two men, William and Jim, leaving the premise. Next she returned to the room where Craig Mercer had been left in his drugged stupor. She quickly felt his forehead and checked his pulse. She was not a medical doctor, though she did have enough medical training and experience to assess his condition. She determined he had been sedated and would probably sleep most of the night. She made certain he was covered before leaving him in the dark once again.

Porter. What the hell was Porter's number? She should have programmed it into her cell phone, but of course that was one thing that was better left up to her daughter, who lived for her cell phone. Joyce unlocked her way into her cubby hole and then into her office where her purse was locked up tight in the bottom drawer of her desk. She loved her job and cared about the kids, but she wasn't an idiot; she knew better than to leave her purse out where one of them could get to it. She sat at her desk while she dug through her purse for the card Porter had given her with his office and cell phone numbers. Perhaps he knew what the hell was going on, and if he didn't, well he was about to find out.

If only she had some idea of how to make contact with Robert Bradford. The man had been all that Evelyn had been able to talk about for months, but she had never really met him until that day, with Porter, during the interview with Craig. She wished now that she had made some kind of attempt at catching up to him after that meeting, to reach out to him. She had always been thankful that Evelyn had found someone who was so good to her, and for her. If only she had made that attempt to let Robert Bradford know that, perhaps they could have exchanged phone numbers. At this moment she would prefer to contact him directly. Instead she was going to have to be satisfied with Porter, from the D.A.'s office, and pray that the man would have some answers or be willing to assist her with the problem lying in a locked room down the hall.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks to all for reading, and for the reviews! Sorry I haven't been able to respond to them all, it's been another one of those weeks of work work work work work :( Each and every one of them is appreciated though! Let me now what you think of this chapter :)

Do not own, make no money.

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**Chapter 18: The Changes Inside**

Jack sat down on the back steps and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He could have gone up to his room to smoke, but he didn't want to feel closed in at the moment. Hell, in less than twelve hours his fate was going to be decided by a Judge and the District Attorney. No Mercer stood any kind of a chance standing in front of a judge. He knew his ass was going right back to jail, no matter what anyone might say and he wanted the fresh air more than the smoke at that moment. He dug a wrinkled cigarette out of the nearly empty pack and stuck it into his mouth, but he didn't reach for his lighter. He needed to make what few cigarettes he had left last through the night. It would be stupid to go buy another pack of smokes tonight, when they would just be taken from him the next morning when he was booked back into jail. He was that sure of what was coming.

Bobby's words just as short time before, telling him that he knew people and places and he would make sure he didn't go to jail echoed inside his head while he measured the options set before him. He was going to end up doing time for killing a man when there wasn't any proof that he had indeed taken a life. He couldn't let Bobby risk anything by helping him run from this, he was going to have a hard enough time getting Craig back as it was. If he was busted trying to help Jack hide from the cops there would be no way of getting Craig back and he would be forever lost in the system, thinking that his brothers hadn't tried hard enough to find him. He understood Craig's fear, and he couldn't let him suffer through that, he was his big brother. He was learning to think like a big brother, and he was starting to see the motivation that had driven Bobby, Jerry and Angel during his own struggles.

There weren't many options for Jack to choose from for himself, besides running from the cops or facing life in prison. Of course there was always the possibility that the charges could be dropped. They were trumped up for the most part. Sure, he had shot Adam Macks, the same sick son of a bitch who had twisted his already emotionally scarred mind into a crumble of broken dreams and fears that he'd held crammed inside until that one night when he'd brutally attacked him; the same warped asshole who had made Craig's child hood nothing more than a lifeless existence that drove him deep inside his own mind; the same deranged mind that planted explosives in Jeremiah's warehouse in his attempts to destroy the lives of each and every person who loved the son he could never love. Adam Macks had raged war on the Mercer family at a time when they were already suffering from a tragic loss and his intentions were nothing short of killing them all, including the son he had abused and tried to kill as a small child. He had shot that scum while he'd held a gun in Bobby's face and he would do it again, even knowing the hell that would follow. He wasn't proud of aiming a gun at another human being and pulling the trigger, he really wasn't, but he had stopped thinking of Macks as a human being and remembered the monster he had been.

Jack knew that his only other option, the only other chance he had was to have faith that the judge would believe Green and Johnson's statements as to what happened on New Year's morning in the cemetery to be true and accurate. Macks was a sick fucker who deserved to die, but there was no proof the bullet Jack sunk into him had actually killed him. The body of Adam Macks had, after all, been torn to pieces when the car ran over him. If this Judge Ames could see that Harris was piecing together bogus charges to get his hands on Craig, then maybe they all had a chance to right what was wrong. Maybe they had a chance to really work on being a family again; that was all any of them wanted.

Jack hadn't been able to figure out what Harris thought he could accomplish by throwing him into jail and snatching Craig away to hide him in some kind of fucked up social services network where kids seemed to fall between the cracks. Harris was after something specific, and though Bobby thought he was after the Mercer men, Jack had a nagging feeling Harris thought there was something Craig could give him. He hadn't tried to share his theory with anyone yet; his mind was still trying to figure out what it was that felt so out of place in all of this mess, and until he could tell his brothers the reason for his worries he would just sound like the same old Cracker Jack they didn't feel had any sense about him. He wasn't stupid, he just wasn't street smart the way they were. Hell, he was learning though.

Harris had left without overseeing him being booked or questioning him much beyond what he'd said in the car. His focus had been Craig. The FBI agent was using Adam Macks' death to try to squeeze something out of the kid, not any of his brothers, and the more Jack's mind dissected the facts the more angry he felt deep in his gut. It was anger unlike anything he'd ever experience. He'd felt anger and fear most of his life, but the responsibility of being an older brother never really hit home until the past few weeks, when he'd finally experienced the need to be one. The idea of losing that so soon was too much for him to dwell on.

He'd always been the little brother, even after Craig came into their home. It was as if the four older Mercer brothers had been separated from Craig by the bonds they had already formed with each other, it was the natural order of things that had been established long before their mother had brought Craig home. Jack was the youngest of the four eldest and it was a way of life that hadn't changed upon Craig's arrival because the kid had latched onto Evelyn so tightly. They all cared about the kid, but he hadn't reached out to them either. Jack felt bad now, looking back, and knowing what they all knew in hindsight. The kid was terrified then, and he'd always lived a life of fear, even when he was safe. Jack wanted to be the big brother now, he wanted to be the same for Craig that Bobby, Jerry and Angel had always been for him. He had cared, of course, but he had never really felt that connection to the kid, not like he did now.

The anger of having his mother ripped from him, being shot, and having to struggle through the memories of the emotional and physical trauma that had haunted him over the years was starting to catch up to him and now to have a life in prison staring him in the face along with not knowing how to fix it just seemed too much. That was his reason for leaving Angel and Jeremiah to the task of filling Bobby in on how Craig Mercer seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth the second he was put into a car and driven way from their home. Children's Services had no record of any of their case workers taking Craig into custody. The court system had no records of a juvenile being taken into custody or processed in as any kind of offender, something Green had suggested they check into. No one had seen or heard from Harris since he'd walked away from Jack outside of the police station and no one had any idea where Craig was.

It all added up to Harris sinking his damn claws into the kid and that thought tore into Jack's gut hard, turning his anger into acid and rising bile in his throat as his thoughts focused on that fact. He was beginning to understand the kind of shit he'd put his brothers through during the times he'd been battling his own demons. Somehow he found his feet and stood. His fingers twisted around the already fragile cigarette that he'd never lit, tearing at the paper and littering his hand with tobacco.

He let the mess fall from his hand, wiping it off on his jeans as he walked towards the garage. He felt an energy building up inside of him and wasn't sure what to do with it. He couldn't go anywhere, and he didn't want to go anywhere. He turned and looked at the house. He had expected to hear Bobby's voice, yelling about the fact that there was no news concerning Craig but so far it was quiet. As if everything behind the walls was normal. The way their luck had been going, it was starting to feel as if out of control was normal, he had to admit that, but the calm that hung just beyond the door was not.

With no warning Jack's body seemed to register the freeze in the air. His shoulders shrugged his jacket collar up around his neck with one smooth motion while his hands sunk down into his jacket pockets. The leather was normally more than enough to keep his bones warm, but there was a chill penetrating his bones despite the fire taking hold in his gut.

Jack sucked in several deep breaths and considered pulling out another cigarette. He had yet to get his smoke. The wind seemed to pick up at that moment, bringing a short burst of mist and sleet down on him. It was gone by the time he reached the door and as he turned to look back into the night his eyes slowly raised skyward to look into the black. He sighed and shook his head. "I have one night left and I can't even manage to get one smoke in." He spoke to the God his mother seemed so faithful to and wondered silently if that God would be stepping in any time soon and saving them all from the bullshit that was piling up.

The phone rang out just as Jack closed and locked the door. He pulled his jacket off and dropped it onto the back of a kitchen chair as he moved towards the phone. "I got it." He called out to let his brothers know he would answer the call. He was sure they were in deep conversation as to what they could possibly do to find Craig and take down Winston. It seemed a mountain had risen in front of them, keeping them all from the lives they had left behind the day they'd come home for their mother's funeral.

Jack sniffed at his cold nose as he answered the phone. "Hello." He kept his voice quiet.

"Is Bobby home yet?" Robert Bradford spoke from the other end of the line.

"Yeah, he just got in a little bit ago." Jack shook off the surprise he felt at hearing Robert Bradford's voice and turned to walk towards the living room by route of the foyer. "You got any news?" He asked.

"We've got Craig. We know where he is I mean. We do not have him in front of us at this very moment, but we will soon." Robert announced. "Let me speak to Bobby."

Jack stopped in his tracks at the threshold, still lingering in the kitchen as the news sunk in. "You found him?" He cried out. "Where is he? Is he okay? Have you seen him? Can we come and get him? What…." The questions fell like lead balls and he couldn't stop them.

"Jack, let me speak to Bobby, please, this is very important." Robert cut off the next question.

Apparently Jack's voice had carried through the house because he looked up to see Bobby barreling towards him out of the living room. "Who are you talking to Jack?" He asked quickly.

Jack held the phone out towards Bobby and quickly dodged his older brother who pushed his way into the kitchen as he took the phone. "Bradford, they found Craig."

Jeremiah and Angel were close behind Bobby, throwing questioning looks his way.

Jack shrugged his shoulders at them both and all three turned to look at Bobby.

"Let me talk to him." Bobby spat out his first thoughts before anything else, obviously expecting Bradford to hand the phone over to Craig. "Let me talk to him now." He turned back to face his brothers but he wasn't looking at any of them. He didn't seem to be able to focus his eyes on anyone or anything at the moment, they darted around the kitchen as he listened to Robert.

"Bobby, man what the hell is he sayin'?" Jeremiah finally took a step towards Bobby.

Bobby held a hand up as if to stop Jeremiah. "Okay. So we can meet you there. We can head that way now." He sounded determined. He listened for a moment more before shaking his head hard. "No, we are not going to wait until morning. I want my brother home and I want him home now." His voice sounded tight.

"Bobby, what's going on?" Angel asked.

"Craig is at St. Vincent's; they brought him in under a false ID. They plan on taking him out of the county and Robert seems to think I'm going to sit on my ass and let them do that." Bobby's voice rose with each word he spoke until he was yelling.

"Bobby, you know Robert wouldn't let them take Craig anywhere." Jeremiah pointed to the phone. "Give me that and let me hear what he's sayin'." His voice was quiet and calm.

Bobby handed Jeremiah the phone. "You tell the lawyer I'm on my way to St. Vincent's now, and he can meet me there or I can bust in on my own. I'll be damned if he's gonna stay there all fucking night just so he can disappear again in the morning. I don't care how bad they want to snag the sons of bitches that took him there!" He pushed his way past Jack and Angel and headed for the front hall. "Jack, give me the car keys." He grabbed his coat off of the hook and pulled it on before turning back towards Jack.

Jack stared at Bobby for a split second while his mind processed what was going on around him. Bobby was going after Craig, they knew where he was, and apparently Robert Bradford had requested they use the kid as bait to try to catch the two men who had dropped him off at St. Vincent's. He turned without really thinking about it, quickly stepped past Jerry and grabbed the jacket he had just removed a few minutes before. "I'm driving!" He called out; excitement replacing the acid that had been burning at him as he turned to the back door. He had a chance to act for a change and he wasn't going to give it up. He wasn't going to be left behind for this. He wanted to see any one try to stand in the way of them bringing Craig home. If for some reason there was a legal issue with them removing the teen from the county home then someone needed to be there to hold Bobby back when he decided to kill that particular someone; and Jack knew only Bobby's brothers had the ability to calm him down and hold him back.

Jerry had been listening to the phone but seemed impatient. He finally spoke out. "Robert, he's leaving now. Did you really think he was going to leave him there until morning? You can still get the fools that brought him in if you wait for them there, it's not like they're going to know if we've found him. No one has to know we have Craig." Jeremiah cried out over the phone, his eyes dancing from Jack who was moving almost too fast for him to keep up with, and then to Angel who was rubbing his hands together as if he'd been waiting for this, and then to Bobby who was coming back through the kitchen, the scowl set into his features like stone. "Look, I need to get off of here. We're leaving now." Jeremiah hung up the phone quickly and tossed the handset on the counter. "Angel, you need a coat." He snapped and tried to catch up to Bobby. "Hold on, man, you don't need to be running off half cocked."

"I call shotgun." Angel moved to follow Jack out the door.

"You'd better get a coat." Bobby repeated Jerry's warning to Angle. "The piece of shit car ain't got much of heater." He reminded while he turned to Jack. "I'm driving. Give me the keys." He held his hand out towards Jack. "I plan on getting there in decent time. You drive like a little princess afraid of breaking a nail."

Jack somehow felt relief when he looked at Bobby's face. He could see a spark in his eyes that had seemed to die out earlier that day. It hadn't been there just twenty short minutes earlier as he had been sharing the news of Jessup Winston's miraculous survival of the warehouse explosion, but it was there now, dancing about just behind his angry glare.

Jack felt a smile play at the corner of his mouth as he realized this is the Bobby he was used to and not the carbon copy that had been moving among them all afternoon. His mind was lost in that thought for a short time while it seemed Jerry and Angel both were moving around in a furry. "You hate driving that car." He reminded as he pulled his mind back to the matter at hand and snatched the keys from his pants pocket. "It's my car, I'm driving."

Angel returned with his coat in his arms. "It ain't anyone's car, it's a loner, and I'm riding shotgun." He pushed his way past Bobby and Jack to move out the door.

Jack gave Bobby a questioning look, part of his brain wondered where Jerry disappeared to, another part of him wondered how Angel had managed to get his coat so damn fast while at the same time he was trying to dare Bobby to argue with him. He sure as hell was not planning on taking another wild ride with his brother behind the wheel; he'd had enough of those for a while. "I'll break the fucking speed record, but I'm driving." He smiled and walked out the door. "You and Jerry can sit in the back." He called over his shoulders as he trotted towards the car, his long legs covering the distance with long enough strides that Bobby would have to run to catch him. Angel was squeezing his tall frame into the front passenger's seat and trying to tug his coat on at the same time.

"I ain't riding in the back seat!" Bobby yelled out as he slammed the back door closed behind him, following Jack quickly, but having trouble keeping up with the younger man's long legs.

The sound of a motor revving sang out through the mist that seemed to roll in and out around them. "Bobby, get in the fucking car." Jeremiah's voice called out as he pulled his car up along the curb next to the house.

Jack was about to climb in behind the wheel of the Gremlin when Jeremiah pulled up. He looked at Bobby and shook his head. "Go with Jerry, we'll beat you there." He challenged, not sure why he felt the need to turn the drive they were about to face into a race, a challenge so to speak. Hell, it must have been all of that pent up energy that he'd been battling since he'd been walked out of the jail cell.

Bobby flashed him one of his smiles, but it looked tense. "You're on." He turned and ran towards Jeremiah's car, his feet slipping a few times on the frosty coating left from the mist. "Move over Jerry, I'm driving." He called out as he reached the driver's door, pulled it open and tried to push Jerry across the center console into the other side of the car.

Jack could hear Jerry's voice rising over Bobby's, "Hell no, you done fucked up enough cars for one year Bobby, I'm driving! I can't afford to let you behind the wheel of my car!"

"Fuck you Jerry, all of that shit happened last year!" Bobby was going to have a fight on his hands with this one.

Jack got into the AMC Gremlin that he had developed a soft heart for and started the engine quickly, well as quickly as the old engine would turn over. It took a couple of practiced twists of the keys and a play on the gas pedal to get it to fire up. He looked through the windshield at Bobby still trying to push Jeremiah across the seat, their voices melding together as one in the icy mist.

It wasn't until Jack shoved the transmission into gear and pulled out of the drive that he realized Angel was in the process of trying to exit the car. He managed to reach over and grab his brother, pulling him back into the car. He was thankful to hear the door slam shut as Angel returned to his seat. "Come on Angel, you don't want to leave me all alone, do you?" He felt his chest aching to laugh at the look on Angels face. "Trust me, big brother; I can drive better than you think." He wasn't sure why he felt so hyped up all of a sudden, except that he deserved one last night of real living before he faced a life of being locked behind bars. One last chance to truly act as a real part of his brothers and not just stand back and watch them make a difference. Jack's mind had already made the decision without him really knowing it. He realized that until now he really hadn't tried to think like his brothers, he'd always relied on their thinking. Everything had changed the second he'd aimed a gun at Macks and pulled the trigger; he could no longer sit back and watch his brothers, he had to take some action of his own. He was going to make sure his brothers had Craig safe and sound before he worried about himself and jail; it gave him something to concentrate on and work for. Trying to beat Bobby to St. Vincent's gave his mind one small thing to work towards; once they were there getting Craig out was going to be the next. After that, he would just have to wait and see. He planned on it being a long night.

"It ain't you that I'm worried about, it's this car!" Angel cried out just as the engine let out a frightening shrill screech under the stress of switching gears and grabbed for a seat belt, but didn't seem to be able to find one. "Shit!" He yelled out as Jack hit the gas and pointed the car in the right direction.


	19. Chapter 19

Hope everyone has a safe 4th of July! Let me know what you think and thanks to all for reading!

Do not own, make no money.

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**Chapter 19: Run!**

Harris heard William over the phone, telling him how they had left the kid in the hands of some doctor at St. Vincent's, locked up tight behind a metal door that would only open when a card was scanned from the outside. They had made certain to leave him on the floor where they locked up the kids considered dangerous, but something about it nagged at the back of the agent's brain and a low growl escaped him.

Harris quickly asked the name of the doctor they had dealt with, and once that information was shared his brain started processing it. Payne. He knew that name. He recognized it from somewhere. He thought for a long moment while William told him they were turning in for the night and would contact him first thing in the morning.

Harris still held his phone to his ear, his mind not hearing William's words. He was trying to remember the name. "Dr. Payne." He muttered as he walked over to the desk of his hotel room. He looked at the papers he had scattered about in his own organized disarray. He found the official court documents, lifted them from the desk to study them and let his eyes skim down the page. There it was. Dr. Joyce Payne sat in on the kid's statement against Jordan as a court assigned advocate. She had also been in charge of the boy's case at one point, when he'd been housed at St. Vincent's years before.

"See you in the morning boss." William spoke once more.

"You fucking moron, you handed the kid over to someone who knows him!" Harris yelled as he slammed the papers back down to the desk. "Both of you get your asses back over to that place. I'll meet you there." He hung up the phone before William had a chance to question him. He should have known better than to use new recruits for a job like this. Hell, his own boss had warned him.

Harris reached for the hotel phone and called down to the front desk. "I need my car brought around, now." He snapped the words at the unfortunate hotel employee who picked up. He slammed the phone down and grabbed his coat off of the back of the brown chair next to the door just as his cell phone rang again.

Harris expected it to be William again, or Jim, neither one seemed to be able to take orders without some kind of argument. He flipped the phone open without looking at the caller I.D. "What the hell do need now? Can't you understand basic orders?" His voice rose with each word.

"I need to know the status of our situation, Harris." The voice seemed calm enough, but Harris had come to know that calm sounding didn't mean the man speaking was calm.

"I'm sorry sir, I just found out I have a situation here." He cleared his throat nervously. "I'm taking care of it though."

"Enlighten me, Harris. I don't like waiting for a phone call that never comes." The man still seemed calm enough.

Harris understood the reference his employer was making. He was supposed to be checking in with him several times a day, and he had yet to call him that evening to update him because he'd been waiting to hear from his men, to know the kid was locked up tight for the night. "Well, sir, I was about to call you, but…"

He didn't have a chance to finish his statement.

"You fucked up, didn't you Harris. You let the kid get away somehow, without getting the answers I need." The voice on the other end of the phone grew a bit softer. "I suppose if you are working on fixing this situation I shouldn't hold you up. Call me in an hour Harris or I'll have to find someone who can get this job done."

Dead air hit Harris' ear before he could respond to the order. He shook his head slowly and closed up his phone before moving out the door.

* * *

Craig's mind swam between images of Evelyn Mercer smiling at him and his own mother, Lydia Macks holding her arms out towards him, calling him to her. He went to Evelyn's warmth and hid in her when Lydia called to him that she had present for him, a very special present. He turned to find Lydia holding the small blue bunny that he'd carried around as a youngster. The bunny that he was sure Evelyn had given to him not long after he'd come to live with her, or maybe just before when he was at St. Vincent's, because he was almost sure he'd clung to it there when he was locked away in his own silence. He turned and moved with caution back to Lydia, his mom. She had never really been mean; in fact, when she was straight she was almost able to be a real mother. He knew now that she did love him, she just couldn't crawl out of the drugs enough to show him the way normal mothers showed their love.

The wind seemed to blow around him, sending a chill down his back as he approached Lydia with his hands reaching out towards that little blue bunny. In his dream it looked new, like he remembered from when he was very small, and not worn and stained as it had become over the years.

Lydia reached out and grabbed his arm and he suddenly felt as small as he had when he was five. "You take good care of the bunny. You keep him with you all of the time, you promise me." Lydia leaned down to look him in the face. "Promise me you won't let anyone else see the bunny or touch it. He's yours and you have to keep him safe."

"I promise." Craig cried out and reached for his bunny again. "Please Mommy let me have him." He felt scared that the bunny would disappear from his sight if she didn't hand him over now.

Lydia looked up, her attention shifted to something behind him as she almost gently pushed the plush stuffed animal into his hands. "Here; now you promised. You keep him safe, no matter what happens. You don't let Daddy know you have him Craig. I mean it; it would be bad if Daddy knew."

Another form moved towards them, a dark and shadowy figure. Craig felt the fear building and was certain that his father was there and knew he had the stuffed toy. He didn't have toys, he wasn't allowed. Lydia smiled at the figure, but Craig couldn't see a face. He could see enough to know it was man, but as the man moved closer he could see it wasn't Adam Macks. Still the fear seemed to hang in the air around him.

"You see, I told you it would be that easy. It will be safe, I promise." The stranger spoke quietly. "Now relax." He turned towards Craig, and his face, though blurry, came into view.

Craig jerked awake, sitting up as he did. He felt around the bed for Bobby and his hands hit a wall. His mind was confused, and the first thought that hit him was if he wasn't in his mother's bed he must be in his own room. He turned to where the room should have been and found pitch black. The panic gripped at him and he moved out of the bed, his feet hitting cold tile.

He tried to remember where he was and why, but his mind was still a haze of sleep, blurred faces and blue bunnies. He grabbed the mattress and pulled it onto the floor, trying to locate his blue bunny. He'd kept it under the mattress for a long time and that was the first place he thought to look. When he found nothing but cold springs under his fingers he dropped to his knees and felt around for the floorboard that concealed the toy. Cold tile screamed back at him that he wasn't in his room. "Bobby!" He cried out and fell back onto his butt. He scooted backwards until his back hit solid wall. "Bobby!" His voice came with weakness that time as he squeezed his eyes closed and waited for his brother to come in and pull him out of his nightmare.

Silence was the only response from the dark. His still partially drugged mind went back in time to the darkness had held Sweet on the other side, and then Bradley Jordan, and ultimately his father. His arms hugged at his stomach and he drew his knees up towards his chest to rest his chin on them. "Mom," He barely gasped the word out. He needed someone to pull him from the dark. He was going stiff, unable to move or rip his mind away from the memories he held of the dark places he'd been trapped in so recently.

The sound of snapping metal seemed to fill the room and then hinges creaked loudly as light filtered in, first it was a thin line of yellow lighting up the floor and the edge of the bed, but it grew wide as a door on the opposite wall opened.

"Craig?" A woman's voice called out and a form appeared in the light. The shadowy outline of a woman moved towards him. It reminded him of the dream he'd just had. "Dear, you need to get off of the floor." Hands reached for him and though he pulled back from them, he really had no place to pull away to. His back was already against the wall.

As the woman entered the room the lights switched on as if by magic and Craig squeezed his eyes closed from the blinding brightness. "Where am I?" He asked, knowing that he sounded like a scared little kid, but not willing to take the time to care at that moment. "Where is Bobby?" He could hear movement, the sound of the mattress brushing against the floor and then hitting the springs of the bed.

Hands took hold of his arms, and pulled him gently away from the wall and upwards. "Come on dear, come back to the bed."

Craig chanced opening his eyes and looked up into Dr. Payne's gaze. He felt tears starting to flow. "I'm at St. Vincent's." He stated the obvious as he stood and allowed the doctor to step him back to the bed where he sat down.

"Yes, you are." Dr. Payne looked down at him with a small smile and reached up to smooth some hair away from his face. "Do you remember how you got here?" She asked carefully.

Craig shook his head and looked around the small room. Other than the bed it was empty.

"What do you remember?" Joyce Payne sat down next to the boy on the bed.

Craig's mind seemed to kick into action when he tried to remember. Jack had been arrested, and he'd been taken by Children's Services, but it wasn't anyone from his mother's office, they were from someplace else and they were taking him away and hiding him from Bobby. "They took me away." He quickly pulled his eyes away from Dr. Payne, diverting his gaze to the floor. "They took me and they aren't going to take me back." He felt tears clutching at his throat. "They took me away from home." He shook his head. His right arm started to itch as panic grew inside of him. He fought the urge to scratch at it though it seemed to grow with each passing thought that ran through his mind.

"Craig, it's all right. You are safe." Dr. Payne spoke calmly and carefully slid her arm across Craig's shoulders, obviously ready to pull back if she had the slightest clue from him that he didn't want the comfort.

Craig was surprised to find himself drawn to the feeling of a mother's touch, though it wasn't his mother. He buried his face into Dr. Payne's shoulder and sobbed, letting his mind imagine it was Evelyn Mercer holding him, though he knew better.

"Okay, it's going to be fine, I promise." Dr. Payne soothed him by rubbing circles in the middle of his back. She let him cry for quite some time before making him sit up on his own accord. "Now, enough of that, there is no reason to be so upset. You are going to be fine."

Craig suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Of course she would say that to him, she was helping Harris keep him away from his brothers. He had trusted Dr. Payne when he was small and it had felt natural to let down his guard with her, but he'd just cried on the shoulder of one of the people who were keeping him from his home and family. He pulled back from Dr. Payne. He had been able to trust her at one time, but not now. She was sitting there telling him it was going to be all right but she was keeping him there in a dark room behind a locked door. The intensity of the itching doubled. He started to scratch at it with his left hand, his nails flicking at the thin scabs that had formed from his earlier attempt to dig the itch out of his skin.

The doctor seemed to sense the change in him. "Craig, you can trust me." The older woman stood and stepped over to the door. She looked out into the hall, first to her left and then to her right as if she wanted to be certain they were alone, before stepping back into the room and pushing the door almost closed, but not quite, before turning back to Craig, and noticed the scratching. She reached out with one hand and took hold of his left hand, easing it back from his arm. "When those men brought you in, they tried to tell me some story. They said that you were a runaway from Southfield. I recognized you, obviously, it would be impossible for me not to recognize my favorite rising star; I felt it was best if they thought I believed them. They left you here for the night, after taking your shirt and shoes. I suppose they don't expect a children's home to have anything like clothes on hand, just in case children might need to dress." Her voice carried as thick sarcasm that held a note of Evelyn Mercer in it.

Maybe it was the graying hair that hung around her face, loose from the hairpins she'd used to clip it back, maybe it was the warmth that seemed to radiate from around her eyes, but Craig's fear started to melt as he looked at her. He could remember the first time he'd met Dr. Payne, she hadn't been crowned with gray hair at the time, but a brilliant auburn hue that reminded him of autumn somehow. She had been patient with him, and she had talked quietly and moved slowly around him. He had learned to trust her then, and it was Joyce Payne that had brought Evelyn Mercer to him.

"I'm confused." Craig muttered, not sure why he felt he could trust the doctor now. It wasn't as if he'd had much contact with her since Evelyn had taken him home as a foster son. Sitting across from her and Mr. Porter in the D.A.'s office was the last time he'd seen her and talked to her in any way.

"Well, that makes two of us sweetie." Joyce Payne moved back to sit next to him again, still keeping a loose hold on his hand. "Tell me what happened, as best as you can."

Craig felt it spill out of head with more speed than his voice could keep up with. He told her about how his father came back from the dead and came after his brothers, trying to kill them all. He told how Adam Macks hit on him right there in front of his mother's grave until Bobby dove into him to save him. The words ran over his tongue as he described how Jack had put aside his own fears and picked up a gun to save them all by putting a bullet into Adam Macks. That entire nightmare in the cemetery filled his head and emptied out in words. He squeezed his eyes closed as he shared what little he knew about Harris, and how the man was ripping apart his life and he didn't know why. He told her that he was sure Jack was in jail, but he didn't know about his other brothers. He was scared and alone, and he wanted to go home, and he told her that. As he spoke the itching that had dug into his arm seemed to vanish.

Once the words stopped the room fell into near silence. The only sound was his breathing, and a small sigh from Joyce Payne. They sat there for what seemed an eternity.

"Well, we need to find some clothes for you." Joyce finally stood slowly and gave his hand a slight tug, to urge him up after her. "If you are going home you are going to need some shoes on your feet, a shirt on your back and I'm sure a coat will be needed."

Craig looked at her for a long moment. "You're going to take me home?" He wasn't sure he believed it could be possible.

"I won't have to. I've spoken with Mr. Porter, you remember him, don't you? He was well aware that you were missing. He contacted Mr. Bradford and he gave me the contact information for Lieutenant Green." She smiled at him. "Someone should be here shortly to move you out of here. I don't know how long we will have to wait, but you should be ready to go when the time comes, don't you think?"

Craig's heart started racing and he stood, his hold her hand tightened slightly. He allowed her to pull him into the hall and past a lounge area. He recognized the door that led into the doctor's office from years before. Dr. Payne released his hand long enough to dig a key out of the pocket of her slacks and quickly unlock the door before grasping him again to pull him inside the reception area cluttered with files.

When he was six years old the whole place had felt massive and intimidating. Now it seemed rather cramped and stale. The reception area was surrounded in thick, clear plastic that sealed in the work space and a second door to the actual office.

The office door was not locked and the doctor turned on the light as soon as they walked through it. "I took the liberty of going through the clothes bins while you were sleeping." Dr. Payne let go of his hand and motioned to a stack of clothes folded neatly on her desk. "I wasn't sure about the sizes, so I grabbed a couple of everything. They may be too big, but you pick the best that will fit you and get dressed. I'll be right outside, okay?" She smiled, but didn't give him a chance to thank her before she left him on his own.

Craig looked at the shirts and shoes sitting on the metal desk. Dr. Payne had grabbed several long sleeved cotton shirts and thermal shirts and two pairs of gym shoes. The shoes looked practically brand new, and he almost felt guilty taking them when he knew someone else at St. Vincent's probably needed them more than he did. He didn't let his mind dwell on the thought long though, as he remembered his reason for needing the shoes.

He quickly pulled a dark blue thermal shirt over his head and stuffed his arms into it. It was too big, and his arms seemed lost until he managed to poke his fingers out the ends to bunch the sleeves up, forming bulging mountains of blue up his arm. He grabbed a green and blue checked shirt that buttoned up the front, again too big for him, but it fit over the first shirt just fine. He grabbed the shoes and sat down on the sofa lining the wall next to the door to try them on. He didn't care which pair he took, so long as his feet fit into them.

When Craig opened the door he found Dr. Payne holding her cell phone in her hand and mumbling curses that would endear her to Bobby's heart if he'd been around to hear them. That thought stabbed at the boy's chest. "Okay, I'm ready." He spoke quietly.

"This damn phone is driving me crazy." Joyce Payne looked at Craig and her expression softened as she smiled. "Well, that looks nice."

Craig didn't know what to say, so he just gave his shoulders a slight shrug.

"Evelyn did wonders with you Craig. I wanted nothing more than for you to grow up healthy and happy, in a stable home. I know she gave that to you, she gave that to all of her boys. I want to get you back there, okay?" She spoke carefully.

Craig couldn't find his voice, he merely nodded his head.

Dr. Payne sighed heavily. "I was trying to call Lieutenant Green to find out when he would be here, but I can't seem to get my phone to work. I know his number is on here, I called him earlier, but I can't find it. I'm not very good with this thing; I greatly prefer an old fashioned phone with a rotary dial and wires that feed into walls. I haven't taken well to technology I'm afraid. I can't even work the damn computer they insist we use. My assistant does all of that." The good doctor held her phone out towards Craig, "Help?"

Craig reached out with his right hand to take the phone and assist the Doctor in finding Green's number. The door at the end of the hall burst open, crashing into the wall with a loud bang before Craig had a chance to take the phone. Craig looked up, startled by the loud footsteps; more than one person, he could tell before he looked. Dr. Payne looked startled as well as the figures came into view at the end of the hall.

Craig recognized the first man immediately. "Harris." He muttered, knowing without looking that the other two figures with him would be William and Jim.

"Oh dear, come on, through here." Dr. Payne grabbed hold of Craig's hand and pulled him out the door into the hall. He wanted to run the opposite direction of the men coming towards them, but Dr. Payne pulled him towards the lounge. "Trust me Craig." She spoke quietly when Craig tried to pull away from her and move in the direction that felt safe.

"Hey, stop right there!" Harris called out as soon as he seen them moving towards the security gate that led into the lounge.

Craig heard the footsteps of the men increase as they started running. Dr. Payne scanned her badge at the gate of the fence like structure that separated the lounge from the rest of the area and pulled Craig through. She slammed the gate closed just Harris, William and Jim reached it.

"Doctor, you have no idea what you are messing with here!" Harris yelled through the chain link wires separating them.

Dr. Payne didn't stop to look back at the men, who were now shaking at the gate hard. She pulled Craig past the couches, game tables and chairs, and a dark and quiet television, to the far wall, where a gray metal door marked as an emergency exit met them. "Run!" She called to him as she pushed on the crash bar holding the door closed.

Craig wasn't surprised when an alarm rang out through the whole building within a second after the door was pushed open. About the time Dr. Payne pulled him into the stairwell that led downward, the sound of gunshots behind them joined the shrill sounding alarm. Craig found his feet moved much faster with knowledge of the actual danger they were running from. He passed Dr. Payne and was soon the one pulling her down the metal stairs.


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you all for reading, as always, and for those of you who review special thanks :)

Do not own, make no money

* * *

**Chapter 20 : Improvise?**

Jack had his watch held up as if he were checking the time when the headlights of Jeremiah's car fell on him, but he wasn't able to hide the smirk that had formed across his face as he leaned on the back end of the AMC Gremlin, a smirk that wasn't lost on Bobby. He understood how Jack was feeling at that moment, the idea of finding and having a hold on Craig was enough to raise his own hopes that shit was about to turn around for them all, but his little brother didn't need to be rubbing his face in the fact that the piece of shit Gremlin with it's rusting body and missing bumpers had made it half way across the city in less time than Jeremiah's shiny new Volvo.

Bobby turned to his left and sneered at Jeremiah, who had refused to allow him to drive and now he would have to listen to Jack gloat about his victory. "You are one sorry driver Jerr'." His voice croaked the words as Jeremiah shifted the car into park and cut off the engine.

"We're here in one piece, ain't we?" Jeremiah grinned at him, his big teeth flashing in the faint light of the interior of the car.

"Fuck you." Bobby pushed the door open and got out of the car. He started for the main entrance, but remembered the security office just on the inside of the door. He had been to St. Vincent's enough in his younger years, as had the rest of his brothers, to know the layout. It really wasn't the worst place to be, unless you were a pissed off teenager with a bad attitude. They did have a level for the trouble makers and hard to handle kids that just couldn't be controlled. Bobby had hated the place, but he knew deep down that he could have made his numerous visits there much more pleasant if he'd only had some control over his fists.

Jack pushed away from the Gremlin and stepped up to where Bobby had stopped on the frosty sidewalk. "Angel went around to the side to see if the emergency doors are still there." He informed.

Bobby turned and looked at Jack, "How long you been here?" He asked, surprised they'd had time for Angel to think of any plan of action.

"Oh, not long." Jack laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "You really should have drove, man."

Bobby didn't smile at the comment. "You're real fucking proud of yourself, ain't you little brother." He could see a glint of satisfaction in Jack's features, even in the dark night. Part of him was glad Jack'd had some chance to feel good. He knew what lay ahead, with the hearing the following day, it was going to be rough.

"Maybe I am." Jack licked at his lips and then grinned a little wider.

Bobby reached up and smacked the back of Jack's head, hard. "You stupid ass, shut the fuck up. You still drive like a little girl, sweetheart." He couldn't think of anything else to say and the gleam in Jack's eyes was irritating after a few minutes. A happy Jack was good, but a gloating Jack was a pain in the ass. He turned towards the sound of boots hitting pavement, and spotted Angel trotting towards them across the concrete walkway that wrapped around the building.

At the same moment headlights from the drive lit the area around them. All eyes turned to the back end of Jeremiah's car. The headlights went dark and both the driver's door and passenger's door opened. "Damn, can't keep you boys home for one night, can I?" A familiar voice filled the air.

Bobby strained his eyes to make out the dark figures moving his way. "Green, what the fuck are you doing out of the hospital?" He felt irritation dig at him as he walked towards the cop who had saved all of their asses more than once recently. "You stupid fucker, you ain't supposed to be out here like this, I know better!" He met up with his friend next to Jeremiah's car. He stared into the man's face and knew for certain that Green wasn't going to leave on his own accord. He allowed a quick hug, "You good man?" He asked quietly.

"I'm good. No foot races for a while, but I'm good. I'm not here, not officially. I'm not back to work; this is personal, if you know what I mean." Green commented.

Bobby looked over at Johnson who just smiled at him. He gave the younger officer a nod, "What about you, you here officially?"

"Absolutely," Johnson looked at the men. "You did want to go in the front door, didn't you?" He flashed a quick smile.

Jeremiah was turned away from them all, looking across the drive at the parking area none of them had opted to use. Two dark vehicles were parked in the row closest to them, directly under one of the many lights dotting the property. They had not been sitting long enough, that fact obvious with the absence of as the thick layer of frosty ice that had already covered the few other cars that spotted the lot. "Shit." He didn't dare step towards the cars. Despite the lot having been coated with salt at some point that evening, there were still icy patches that would put a person on their ass. "Do those cars look familiar?" He held his hand out, pointing in the direction of the cars. "Do they have government tags?"

Bobby felt something in his chest snap and spun around to face Jeremiah. He followed his brother's gaze across the dark parking lot. From his angle his eyes fell on the back end of one of the cars. His mind flashed the picture from earlier that day, his little brother in the back of the car, fighting to get out, to get to him. It was the same car. "Fuck!" He turned and took off at a run towards the front entry. "Come on Johnson! We ain't got time to chat!" He yelled back. He barely comprehended passing Angel. "Side door Angel?" He called without looking back.

"Got it," Angel's yell was accompanied by his retreating footfalls. "Jackie, move your ass!"

Bobby didn't look back to see who was with him, or who was following Angel. He jerked on the large wood and glass door of the front entrance and felt almost surprised when it opened easily. He had expected, half hoped for the opportunity to unleash the pent up frustration on the helpless door. Instead he would have to settle for the older gentleman sporting a security uniform walking up to greet them in the small lobby area that was split down the middle by elevators and a stairway. Offices lined one wall and open cubicles ran along the other. On the back wall a door led through to the actual living quarters where the children were housed and fed. If a child was on the first floor, they had a chance of going to a real family and living a normal life at some point.

Bobby barely had time to read Charlie Hinkle's name tag pinned to his Security uniform shirt before Johnson stepped ahead of him to flash his badge, stripping him once again of the opportunity to get rid of the pressure building up. All he could hope for was the chance to hit someone or something soon, before he lost complete control. The only chance he had would be up on the third floor, he was sure.

Bobby started for the stairs, knowing the elevator only went up to the second floor, to where the juvenile offenders were locked up. The stairs led to the second floor as well, but were not used as a normal entrance for security reasons. If Craig had been left under Dr. Payne's watchful eye, as Robert Bradford had told him, then he was up on the top floor of the building with no way to get out and the fuckers who stole him were up there with him. He realized Jeremiah was right behind him as they reached the stairs and started moving up. He glanced back to see Johnson talking to the guard, Green was nowhere in sight, which was good, the man was supposed to be laying in a fucking hospital bed, not running around after crooked FBI agents.

Johnson caught up to them just as they reached the landing to the second floor. The bars that had been put into place separated the floor from the stairs with a door cut into them to be used as an emergency exit. The long hallway of the other side of the bars reminded Bobby of his old high school in a sick way, except for the security doors instead of lockers lining the wall. Bobby felt a twinge of anger as memories flooded back from his days on the second floor of St. Vincent's. The kids here had to step out of their rooms every day and see bars holding them in, bars in the windows, locks on the doors and freedom as close as a stairway blocked by more iron. Bobby didn't stop long to study the view, he turned away, took the corner next to him and moved up more steps to the third floor, where he prayed he would find his missing brother.

The sounds of yelling from above echoed in faint waves on the stairs. "Shit!" Bobby's feet quickened to a run, taking the stairs two at a time. "Shit!" His mind envisioned Craig cowering in a corner with Harris yelling at him and the picture pissed him off. He felt his body slam into the double metal doors at the top of the stairs as his shoes slid on the freshly waxed floor. His forward momentum faltered as he cleared the doors and was met by the ear piercing screech of an alarm. His ears felt as if they were about to burst from the shrill sound filling the halls. His eyes tried to adjust to the change in lighting, having gone from a brightly lit stairway to a dark and dim hall was a drastic change and the shrill shrieking seemed to pulsate into the halos that seemed to have formed around the edges of everything in his line of sight.

The gunshots rang out ahead of him, just out of sight around a corner. "Craig!" Jeremiah was the one who yelled out. Bobby felt his brother trying to push past him and did a quick mental check. None of them had guns on them, except for Johnson. He barely noticed Johnson pulling his gun from under his coat.

"Shut the fuck up Jerr'." Bobby shot his arm out to stop Jeremiah from running past. He motioned for Johnson to take the lead, a move that was hard considering how desperately he wanted to hurt someone at theat moment.

Johnson took Bobby's hint and moved to the corner. "Shit." He muttered and moved onward, around the corner and out of sight. "They're going down the emergency stairs." He called back as Bobby reached the corner with Jeremiah right up his ass.

"They shot through the gate." Johnson pointed to the damaged lock. "Angel and Jack aren't armed, are they?" He yelled over the alarm and looked almost as if he were hoping the answer would be yes.

"No they ain't armed, especially not Jack." Bobby shook his head and pushed on past Johnson. "They're chasing Craig?" He didn't wait for an answer, he just followed his instinct. "Shit, they got guns and they're chasing down a kid? Some federal agent Harris is, strong armin' a little kid." He was speaking more to himself than Johnson or Jeremiah as he sprinted across the room ahead of them and tunneled down the stairwell used for emergencies. Even if he had been speaking to them his words fell unheard under the constant alarm emanating from every direction. Strobe lights flashed against the grey walls in a constant rhythm, giving an eerie feel to the closed in area. The lights and sound seemed to pulse through his head and the stairs under his feet as he moved downward.

So much for allowing Johnson to go first, if Craig was running from Harris he was scared, and he was leading the fucker right into Jack and Angel. Harris had a gun but whether his men did was questionable. The only fact that Bobby was certain of was they had to be stopped before they reached any of his brothers.

Bobby couldn't hear anything in front of him or behind, though he was sure he felt someone from behind, he assumed Jeremiah, grabbing at his arm as if to stop him. He shrugged out from the grasp and hurtled himself faster down the stairs. The backs of three men game into view one level below him and without thinking Bobby Mercer took a leap over the banister, aiming to come down on on top of at least one of the assholes chasing his brother, it would break his fall, he hoped. It would take out at least one of Harris' men and maybe even stop them all from running all together. It was worth a few scrapes and bruises if it stopped Harris with a gun from running Craig right into Angel and Jack.

"Bobby, what the hell are you doing'?" Jeremiah's voice barely hit a high enough decibel to penetrate the now familiar shrill of the alarm. Bobby felt Jerry's hand grab for his arm but it was too late. Bobby went airborne, falling downwards towards the men on the stairway that wound continuously to the right below him. He felt a yell vibrate against his throat, but it was stifled by that damn alarm as he realized he wasn't quite on target. The man trailing closest to Harris looked up at Bobby's feet; he seemed to lose all traction as his eyes widened. His mouth shot open and Bobby was sure that under normal circumstances he would have heard a yell to match the one that he was emanating into the deafening screech surrounding them all.

The other man with Harris seemed to crumble into the first. Harris slowed and turned to see what was going on. Bobby somehow managed to catch hold of the banister he'd just leaped over and shift the position of his falling body. He felt a smile spread once he realized that last little tilt of his torso would give him the broad range he needed to bowl down both of Harris' associates. It all happened in a fraction of a second, but to Bobby it felt as if it had stretched out for an eternity.

He felt the crack of bones under him as he tumbled onto two men. He was sure he recognized them from earlier that day, the two fuckers who had taken Craig, and a surge of satisfaction gave him the energy to tuck his arms and roll on down the stairs to the next landing, just at Harris' heels. He was about to reach out for the man's ankles when a flash of steel glinted under the emergency strobe lights mounted on the wall above him. He didn't have a clear view of the object in Harris' hands, but he was certain that Harris was aiming a gun at him.

Bobby shifted his attention to two more forms that had stopped at the next landing below. Craig's eyes were wide, staring up at Harris. His mouth was moving, but the older woman holding onto his hand was pulling on him, trying to get him to move. Dr. Payne, he assumed, was getting his little brother out of there, and he was thankful the woman seemed to have more common sense than he did at the moment. He sure as hell didn't want Craig to see him take this fucker down, but he wouldn't let the kid's presence stop him either. Now he just had to figure out how he was going to get up on his feet and get the gun away from Harris. Bobby didn't wait to see if Craig was obeying the commands of the doctor, he looked back up at Harris and let the biggest smile he could manage spread across his face; he would just have to 'wing it'.

Harris returned the smile and seemed to line his sites up on Bobby's forehead. Bobby felt his legs start to tuck up under him, ready to leap to his feet, when the alarm cut out, allowing the stairwell to fill with the sounds of the injured men behind him groaning, Craig yelling his name, and the distinct sound of Jeremiah Mercer letting out one long scream that seemed to sound something close to his name, "Booooobbbbbbyyyyy," just before Jerry dove head first from the steps behind him, directly into Harris, his big teeth clamping down on the man's wrist, causing the gun to go flying across the cramped space and into the wall, where it went off with a loud blast, almost making the alarm they had all been exposed to moments before sound like music.

Harris crumbled under Jeremiah; Bobby managed to get up on his feet as the activity around him melded together. Johnson was there holding his gun on Harris with one hand and reaching out to offer Jeremiah his other hand to assist him in standing. The two men behind him were still sprawled on the stairs begging for a hospital while Bobby felt someone clinging to him, arms wrapped around his neck with some kind of a death grip and a face was buried in his shoulder.

Jeremiah turned to him with a smile on his face, though Bobby was sure he had to have hurt something with that stupid move, and he would be sure to let the man have a piece of his mind later, when he could spare a little bit of it. He looked down at the brown head on his shoulder and his arms wrapped tightly around the teenager, wondering how the hell the kid had gotten back up the stairs. "It's alright." He gave Craig a tight squeeze. "You okay?" He tried to pry Craig away so he could take a closer look at him but the kid wasn't about to let go.

"Okay, Craig, look at me." Bobby spoke quickly. "Are you okay? You got all of your fingers and toes, right?"

Craig nodded his head but didn't let go or pull his face out of Bobby's shoulder.

Bobby was about to get more demanding when Angel and Jack both came into view, obviously drawn up the stairs by the gun shot that seemed to still be bouncing off of the walls around them. Behind them was Green, trying to run, but not able to keep up. The asshole shouldn't have been there to start with; something else Bobby was going to have to yell at someone about.

Everyone was quick to yell at him for not using his head, but here he had one thick headed brother who had dove in between Harris's gun and his older brother, two idiot brothers who were running head on, literally into what could have been a fucking gun and Green, who was still healing from a gunshot wound, was right on their heels, ready to get his ass shot again.

The only one who seemed to have any common sense was Johnson, and Bobby wasn't real sure about him at the moment, since the man was holding his weapon on Harris, and standing in between Bobby and the son of a bitch. Didn't he realize that Bobby Mercer was going to beat the shit out of that man, it didn't matter who had a gun and who didn't. If Johnson was in the way or if he tried to stop him he'd take him out too, he didn't care how much he liked the fucker. He just had to find a way to strip himself of the teenage brother who had latched on for dear life, and he had to find a way to do that without the kid being emotionally scarred.

"Craig!" Jack was on them before Angel, his long legs taking the steps two at a time with little effort. He grabbed hold of Craig, and to Bobby's surprise the boy allowed him to pull him to him. "Are you okay?"

Bobby finally got a look at the kid's eyes rimmed in red, the familiar exhaustion shadowing his features. He didn't have to guess that the kid hadn't eaten and though Robert had said Harris' men had drugged him it was obvious he hadn't had any real rest. "Jackie, you take him to the car." Bobby quickly pushed Craig further into Jack. "Get him out of here."

Jack looked away from his examination of Craig and met Bobby's gaze. He was about to argue. He was about to say that him and Craig both had a right to be there, Bobby could see the fire of the argument behind his eyes.

"Neither one of you are gonna be around for this one Jack, now get your ass out of here and take him with you!" Bobby didn't give into the urge to try to reason calmly with Jack, he didn't have the time; he let his voice raise a level and let his scowl deepen, mentally daring Jack to voice his argument.

Jack seemed to get it. He stared at Bobby, turned to glance at Harris who was watching Johnson retrieve his gun, and then looked to the two men laying on the stairs with Jeremiah and Angel hovering over them. The bigger of the two tried to push his self off of the steps but Angel's foot planted hard on his back, forcing him back down. Jack easily slid his arm around Craig and pulled him close in a protective way.

Bobby knew then that Jack understood. Shit was going down and Craig had seen far too much in the past few weeks, he didn't need to see more. Jack couldn't be there, he couldn't be involved, he already had a murder charge hanging over his head, he didn't need to be involved with anything that was about to go down in that stairwell.

Green finally reached the crowded landing, and looked exhausted from his climb. Close behind him was the lady who had been pulling on Craig's arms just moments before.

"Green, get them out of here." Bobby spoke up; hoping the cop would turn away and his friend would grant him this request.

Green looked at him, diverted his gaze long enough to take in the scene before him, and then looked at Jack. "Let's go." He motioned for the two younger Mercers to move ahead of him down the stairs.

Jack pulled Craig with him. Craig tried to turn back towards Bobby, but Jack continued guiding him downward. The woman seemed confused as she reached the landing. Green took hold of her arm and turned her back around. "Dr. Payne, I need to ask you what happened here tonight." He spoke to her and guided her down the stairs.

Bobby turned and looked at Johnson. "You need to go with Green. Make sure he makes it back down all those stairs in one piece." He suggested, though his tone was not pleasant. "He is still healing right?"

Johnson looked confused. "He's with a doctor, do you really think he needs me to …." His words faded as he studied Bobby's glare. His eyes shifted to Jeremiah, and then to Angel. "Damn, you guys look pissed." He commented, obviously aware of what Bobby had in mind. He turned back to Bobby. "I'll be in the car. I'm sure Agent Harris and his men will be more than happy to escort you back down to the parking lot." He holstered his own gun but held Harris' gun in his hand as he turned to follow his Lieutenant.

"Hey, Johnson, can't we keep that gun?" Angel asked. "I mean, I'd really like to demonstrate for Harris here exactly what happened to Macks." He called out.

Harris seemed to growl from his position on the floor. "Laugh it up, Mercer; you boys are digging your own graves here." Harris snapped. "Green and Johnson are going to lose their jobs over this; you boys are taking them down with you!"

Bobby waited until he could no longer see Johnson's back. He turned towards Harris. "No, you ass hole, you are going down, and your boss, Winston is the one you've got to thank for that." He looked at Angel. "We got any gasoline?"

Angel rolled his eyes. "If you wanted me to bring the gas, you should have said something before."

"You know how the plan works!" Bobby yelled out. "Jesus, Angel, what the hell is wrong with you? If we ain't got no gas how the hell are we supposed to scare the shit out of them?"

"Well, you know, the pain threshold for these two over here seems pretty damn low, if you ask me." Jeremiah pointed to the crumpled heaps on the stairs. "I got my pliers." He pulled a pair of blue handled pliers out of his pants pocket.

Bobby was speechless for a moment. He looked at Jeremiah and shook his head. "Damn, Jerr', what the hell goes through your mind? No one carries pliers around." He cried out.

"Well, I ain't 'no one'. I'm me, and I carry pliers. And wire cutters. And I got this neat looking pocket tool with a cork screw…" Jeremiah continued digging the objects out of his deep pockets. He finally looked at Bobby. "Oh come on, I think we can find a way to use these, can't we?"

Bobby grinned wide, "Well hell, I guess I can improvise."


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks for the reviews, you guys are the best! :) I hope you enjoy....

Do not own, make no money.

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**Chapter 21: Open Wide**

Bobby leaned down and grabbed hold of the front of Harris' coat. He hauled the man up to his feet and slammed him back into the wall. "Well, now, Agent Harris, I have a feeling your buddy Kirkpatrick might be a little disappointed in the way you have handled this case, what do you think?" He sent his hands under Harris' coat, searching for the holstered gun he knew was there. When he pulled the gun out he checked that the safety was on and then let it drop to the floor to give it a kick across the concrete and into the corner of the landing just above the next flight of steps moving downward.

Harris seemed to snarl and his mouth opened, ready to spill obscenities.

"No, you keep your fuckin' mouth shut until I say you open it." Bobby gave the man a hard jerk away from the wall before slamming him back into it a second time. "Hell, that's fun, can I do that again?" Bobby somehow managed to sound as if he was being a sardonic ass, when in fact he truly wanted to slam the man into the wall over and over. Hearing the man's moans as his back cracked hard against the concrete walls was the most satisfying sound he'd heard all day. The only problem with that idea at the moment was that they needed answers, so he couldn't hurt the ass hole, not yet anyway. But still he gave him another hard tug away from the wall and slammed him again, just because it felt good.

"Damn Bobby, I got pliers here, you said you could use these." Jeremiah held his pliers up. "Come on man, you can't knock him unconscious, where's the fun in that?"

Bobby understood Jeremiah's warning. He didn't turn to look at his brother fully, but he could see him out of the corner of his eye and his mind started to click out mental orders to him as to what he had to do. They needed to know where they could find Winston and this was their opportunity to find that out. Harris was an older man, more experienced than the idiots Bobby had used to cushion his drop just minutes before. Harris was more likely to lie to them, but the men laying on the stairs, already in pain from whatever might have been busted from Bobby's body landing on top of them, they were gonna spill their guts. They were going to tell him what he needed to know; even if he didn't have a gas can to fire up the inspiration inside of them.

Maybe they could manage to get more information out of Harris' buddies than just where to find their boss. Maybe they could figure out exactly what Jessup Winston had sent Harris after. "Okay Harris, this is going to be pretty simple." He released his hold on Harris, but slammed his right forearm across the man's shoulders and upper chest, holding him in place with his own body weight but freeing up his left hand. "We got some questions, and you are going to answer the questions, or your buddies over there are going to lose a few teeth." Bobby flicked a quick nod towards the direction of the stairs.

Jeremiah seemed to grasp the intentions behind Bobby's words. He turned towards Angel, who was hovering over the moans and groans, checking for weapons under their coats and around their ankles. "Hey, catch." He grinned and gave the pliers a toss.

Angel caught the tool and flashed a smile towards Bobby. "I don't know Bobby, I think I like this better than the gasoline. Less chance of any kind of accidents, ya know?" He looked down at his intended victims. "Might be a little messy, but other than that I can adjust."

Bobby allowed himself one quick snicker at Angel's comment before he looked at Harris. "Now, this is how it's gonna go. Angel there is going to ask you some questions. You keep your mouth shut until I say to talk. If you don't talk when I tell you to, then your little friends over there get a tooth yanked." He pointed towards the frightened faces staring back at him from the stairs. "But, if they tell us what we need to know and you don't, you get a tooth removed." Bobby gave Jeremiah a quick nod and was proud to see his little brother hadn't forgotten how to play along.

Jerry held up the wire cutters he'd fished out of his pocket with the pliers. The object that looked like a pocket knife had a corkscrew sticking out of one end, that was the one Bobby wanted to get his hands on, but he'd have to settle for the most frightening threat he could think of and right now that seemed to be the tooth pulling. Hell, he had to admit it seemed to be the next best thing to carrying around a can of gas; people did tend to have a bad reaction to the idea of having their teeth forcibly removed. He could understand why, hell, he hated the dentist himself, a fact that Jack would swear to if given an opportunity, but that was another story, one that he planned on keeping between him and Jack.

Harris' gaze narrowed as he stared past Bobby to the wire cutters in Jeremiah's hand. "You do realize I can have you all thrown into jail for assaulting a federal agent? Attempted murder of a federal agent in fact, you are all going to pay for this, including Green and Johnson." Harris spoke with an angry quake to his voice.

"You really want to risk us telling your boss, Kirkpatrick about your connection to Jessup Winston and Adam Macks?" Angel spoke the words with a calm, steady tone. He shook his head slowly. "Right now, you are facing getting your teeth pulled from your dirty, rotten mouth, and you think you can deal with that?" He laughed and looked at Jeremiah. "He's one hard headed son of a bitch, ain't he? Why don't we see how these two feel about losing their teeth for him. See if they are as fuckin' stupid as he seems to be." He turned back to Harris. "We want to know where the hell we can find Winston. We want an address and the name he's using. We want contact information. Phone numbers for him and names of anyone he's dealing with."

Harris' face seemed to pale instantly, and Bobby was sure he could feel a shudder run through the man trapped under his arm. Harris' mouth opened, but Bobby increased the pressure of his hold, "You keep your mouth shut until I tell you." He warned.

"Once you give us that much, it ain't gonna hurt you to spill the whole fucking truth and tell us what the hell he wants with our family. Why is he gunnin' for us? We ain't done shit to him. He was free and clear from the whole mess, why did he send you in to fuck with us?" Angel dropped down to one knee over the smaller man on the steps. "You know, you can save your ass, right? If he doesn't answer," He pointed the pliers towards Harris, "I'll pull a tooth, unless you start talking fast enough to stop me." He flashed a smile and gave the tool a slight wiggle in front of the man's eyes.

"Okay bitch, start talking, now. Just remember, if they talk and you don't, you're teeth are going to be yanked out, one at a time, nothing to kill the pain." Bobby prayed the man didn't think about the security guard in the lobby, or the fact that the fire and police had probably been dispatched when the alarms went off, effectively removing any chance of a long encounter in the stairwell.

He hoped Harris was scared enough at that moment to not consider the obvious, that Johnson and Green would never really let them do anything to the Federal Agent, or the two men lying in pain on the stairs; and the Mercers sure as hell weren't stupid enough to try anything right there in the stairwell of a fucking children's home, they just weren't that damn stupid or cold hearted. They had a reputation, and that's what Bobby was counting on, that Harris would consider their reputation and believe they were willing to inflict the pain as threatened.

Harris looked down at the wide eyes of his companions. Bobby could see the thoughts behind Harris' cold glare when the man shifted his gaze back up to meet his. "You ain't gonna do shit." He almost smiled at Bobby, but it was more of a mocking sneer. "You ain't got the balls to…"

Bobby planted his hand over Harris' mouth with a hard smack, effectively shutting him up. Harris wasn't going to fall for it, he was older, he'd been around a few times to know the Mercers were gambling on his fear and he wasn't going to play into it. He leaned in closer to Harris, studying the spark of uncertainty in his eyes. Well, maybe Harris wasn't as sure as he thought. He kept his eyes on the man, mentally daring him to try to say another word.

Harris didn't look away from Bobby, he locked stares with him. Bobby knew he had to find a way to convince the man that he was serious or he would have to really let his brother carry out the threat. "You messed with my family Harris. That's the one thing that pushes me past my limits. You understand that, don't you? You push me past my limits and I'm willing to do just about anything. You seem to know so much about me and my brothers. You really think I make threats I can't back up?" He let his hand drop slowly from the man's mouth, not surprised to see blood spotting the man's lip from the hard smack he'd just inflicted on him.

Harris didn't look as if he planned to speak yet, his eyes seemed to twitch, and Bobby was sure the agent was considering his words. Bobby waited a few seconds, but still Harris held fast to his silence.

"Start pulling teeth, Angel." Bobby didn't turn away from him as he spoke.

"You, turn this way." Angel yelled at one of the men still sprawled on the stairs.

"You son of a bitch, let him go!" Bobby heard the words behind him, but he didn't turn to the sight that Harris was flicking his unsure eyes towards. He let Harris look, aware of the shock slowly taking hold in the man's features as the screaming behind him bounced off the walls.

"Harris you ass hole, tell them what they want to know before they pull Jim's tooth out!" The yell came from the man who would be the next victim if no one talked.

"You shut your fucking mouth William!" Harris yelled and tried to make a move forward.

The man screaming, Jim, seemed to be fighting, but he was small compared to Angel and didn't stand a chance.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you what you want to know!" William yelled out.

Bobby's head snapped around to look at William, the chubby fellow who had broken his fall down the stairwell. He flashed William a smile as he took in the scene of Angel, sitting with one knee in the chest of little Jim, a hand forcing the poor guy's mouth open and the pliers already gripping onto one of the man's front teeth. "Really, you'll talk?" He turned back to Harris and grinned even wider. "Hell, that means either you start running your mouth or I'm gonna get to start pullin' your teeth." He managed a laugh that sounded as if he was delighted by the prospect. He barely noticed Jeremiah stepping up next to him with the wire cutters held up in Harris' line of sight. Harris stared into Bobby's eyes, almost daring him to carry out his threat.

"Winston's real name is Nicholas, Jesse Nicholas; and he's got a suite at the Marriott downtown, at the Renaissance Center. He's not going to be staying in town much longer; he's planning to fly out of Detroit as soon as we deliver what he asked for." William spoke quickly without waiting for a prompt from Angel who was still looming above Jim.

"You son of a bitch, shut your mouth!" Harris yelled out as he attempted to dive towards the informant lying on the floor. If it hadn't been for Bobby's hold, or Jeremiah's body blocking his path he probably would have killed the man right then. William had just made himself an enemy in Harris.

Bobby turned and looked at William; the fear in his eyes was genuine. "You know you probably just guaranteed yourself a death sentence, right?" He asked the man.

William managed to half sit up on the steps. He looked at Angel, who was backing the pliers off of Jim's tooth. "Yeah, well, I want to talk to the cops. If I'm gonna tell anyone anything more, I'm gonna tell it to someone who can offer some protection." He spoke quickly.

"You're with the FBI, like Harris here?" Bobby asked quickly, not sure if he could trust good old William. Of course, if he rolled on his connections with Harris and Winston to the cops then there might be some hope for them all yet. The guy understood the shit he was in though, waist deep in it as a matter of fact. He wanted protection? He really thought he'd get it from the cops? Hell, if he was with the FBI he wasn't too fucking smart.

William looked confused. "No, that's Harris. We work for Nicholas." He gave a quick nod to Jim, whose eyes were still stuck on the pliers gripped tightly in Angel's hand. Despite the fact that pliers were no longer gripping Jim's tooth, the larger Mercer still had one knee planted in his chest, holding him down. "Come on, get off of him, I said I'd tell you anything you wanted to know."

Jeremiah flashed a smile at Harris and held up the wire cutters. "Does that mean I get to start pulling teeth now?" He gave Bobby a sideways glance.

"No, that's not enough information. I want more." Bobby turned back to Angel. "Start pulling some of his teeth," He nodded towards William, "Let's see if that motivates anyone to say more. The more they talk the more we get to take from Harris here." He looked back at Harris and grinned a little wider than he needed to. "Nice smile Harris, hope you know a good dentist." He looked back to watch Angel work on William.

Angel looked down at William and nodded his head. "You said you were supposed to be delivering something to Winston, or Nicholas, or whatever the hell his name is. What were you supposed to be delivering?"

William swallowed hard when Angel reached out and grabbed hold of his tie, pulling on it to draw him in closer, towards the pliers. "We don't know. Only Harris knew exactly what we were after, but he was playing stupid fucking games. He wouldn't get to the point with the kid; he was stuck on the damn Adam Macks murder. Playing games with the kid, mental shit, you know?" He looked up at Harris.

"By the kid, you mean our brother? Craig?" Angel asked, his stare fixing hard on William for a long moment before he looked up at Bobby, then to Harris. "What the hell can Craig have that you want?" He sounded as pissed as Bobby was starting to feel. "What the hell did you do to him?"

Harris flashed a wide smile. "Sorry, don't know what the hell he's talking about. He works for a known gangster, do you really think he's telling the truth?" His voice held an arrogance to it that ate straight through Bobby's self control.

"Fuck the pliers." Bobby growled while he met Angel's gaze for a short moment before turning back to look at Harris. His arm pulled away from the older man, but only for a moment. He shifted the angle and sent his elbow back towards Harris with a quick flash, landing it directly into the man's smile.

He felt flesh and teeth give way under the force of the blow and a warm sensation filled Bobby's chest; one that he recognized as a mixture of relief and satisfaction. He had really needed that. He reached up to rub on his elbow; it was going to hurt for a few days, but nothing he couldn't handle. He remembered the smile Harris had been wearing just a second before and chuckled softly at the look of shock and anger that had replaced it now.

Blood poured instantly in between the curses that ripped from the man's mouth. It was a heavy flow, unlike the tiny trickle that had previously been present. Bobby backed off, allowing Harris to plant his hands over his bleeding lips and gums.

"You son of a bitch," Harris spit two teeth into his hands and looked at Bobby. "You'll pay for that." His words sounded warped from the wide gap in the top row of teeth, the two that had been front and center were no longer sitting pretty to torment Bobby Mercer.

"You really should watch your step there Harris. Falling down the stairs like that, it's a sure sign that age is starting to catch up to you." Johnson's voice filled the stairwell.

Bobby turned towards the voice. Johnson was walking up the steps with Green right behind him. He should have known the cops wouldn't leave him and his brothers alone with Harris and his goons. "You hear much of that?" He asked the men, his eyes resting on Green, who was starting to look about the same as his name might suggest. "You okay there Wilber?"

Green stopped in the middle of the flight of steps beneath them, leaned against the hand rail and let out a sigh. "I'm fine." He sounded irritated, but still relieved to have stopped his ascent. "We heard it all." He looked at Johnson who hadn't stopped to look back.

Bobby turned to William and Jim. "What were your orders? What were you supposed to do if you got whatever Winston was looking for?" He ignored Harris, but noticed the two hoods looking up at the agent.

"He wanted it delivered as soon as possible. Once he had what he wanted we were to leave town separately to be paid when we returned to…" Jim's words seemed to shudder as he spoke.

"Shut the fuck up, you idiot!" Harris yelled. "They are baiting you both, don't you see that? You both have just set us all up for a fall."

Johnson looked at Harris and smiled. "I think Kirkpatrick is going to be very interested in all of this. Don't you? When was he due back in town?"

Harris managed a half smile and turned his bloody face to Johnson. "It won't matter. It will be too late by then. There will be no one around to go after, except for us." He motioned to William and Jim. "And they will be dead shortly after that."

"And you?" Bobby shot at the man.

"Ain't much you can do to me without any proof, now is there? The worst that will happen to me is I am forced to resign my position with the agency. Hell, there's always a government agency looking for a good investigator." His smile faded. "And then I'll just come right back at you."

Bobby shook his head. "Not the way it's going to play out Harris." It wasn't an empty threat; he could feel it in his gut. They were going to end this, tonight. He'd always known he would end up killing Winston. He knew he'd end up putting a bullet in the man's head the second he laid eyes on him in his marble and glass palace, wearing silk and talking about how Macks had fucked him over. The man was good, playing all fucking naïve and put out by the violent side of crime. Bobby wouldn't fall for it again though, and this time, he was going to fire the gun, a gun that couldn't be traced back to any one in his family. There wouldn't be any witness either.

"Let's get this ironed out down at the station." Green spoke from his position on the steps. "Come on man, you boys need to be getting out of here now. Let us deal with our jobs." He gave Bobby a hard stare.

Johnson turned towards Angel and Jeremiah. "You go on, I got these clowns." He gave them both a nod while he pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. He snapped the restraints onto Harris' wrists, confining them in front so that he had use of his hands to hold over his bleeding mouth. He quickly frisked the agent and didn't seem surprised to find the man's gun holster empty under his coat. He turned towards the two injured men on the stairs. "They won't need cuffs yet, right?" He acknowledged the fact that Bobby's body slamming into both William and Jim from above had effectively put them both out of commission for a while. "Are they armed?"

"No guns, I checked them good. I think they're gonna be good boys and stay put for a while." Angle stood, removing his knee from Jim's chest. "Aren't you?" He directed the question to the men.

William and Jim exchanged quick glances but didn't comment.

Jeremiah looked at Johnson. "You sure you can handle them on your own? There are three of them."

"One is in cuffs and the other two look like they ain't gonna be walking far on their own for a while. I've got Green with me to back me up." Johnson laughed and looked from one brother to the other until his gaze fell on Bobby. "Where is Harris' gun?"

Bobby couldn't shake the uneasiness that settled into his gut. He stepped to corner and picked Harris' weapon off of the floor. He stepped down the stairs to Green and handed it to him. "You up to guard duty?" he asked quietly. "I didn't think you were here officially."

Green smiled and nodded, despite the fact that he looked wore down at the moment. "I'm good man. You guys need to get out of here before our back up arrives."

Bobby turned to Angel. "They ain't gonna be able to cause any problems?" He nodded towards William and Jim, still not comfortable with leaving the only men who knew about Winston alone with Johnson and Green.

Angel's eyes were focused on Johnson. His head nodded but he didn't divert his stare. It was obvious he felt the same chunk of heavy lead in his stomach as Bobby did. "Yeah, they're good. They ain't going anywhere."

Johnson looked at Bobby and then to Angel. "If one of you want to stick around and wait that's fine, but it's much better for you to be gone when the uniforms show up, really."

Bobby still had a sinking feeling gripping at his gut. He looked down at Green again. "You're sure we can leave you alone here?"

Green seemed to sense the true question. "Bobby, Johnson is like a son to me. I trust him with my life, and if you think back a few days, he's saved your ass a few times already."

Bobby turned back to Johnson. "No offense, but…" He started.

"You're a hard ass Bobby. No offense taken. Go get your brothers out of here before this whole night gets more complicated. You guys can't be here, it will raise too many questions. We'll give you a call once we got these guys booked and secure behind bars. In the meantime, you have Winston to track down, don't you?" Johnson seemed calm enough.

Bobby looked at Jeremiah and Angel. "Come on; let's let the cops do their job." He muttered. He was going against his own instincts, but he had learned that he could trust Green. He wasn't so sure about Johnson, but he was sure about Green. He led Angel and Jeremiah down the stairs. Johnson was right about one thing, they had a lead to Winston, and that was his next stop, Winston's hotel suite. He wondered if the son of bitch would be wearing another silk robe.


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks as always to everyone for reading :) This one might seem a little slow, but there is a reason for it, I think... Let me know what you think of it :)

Do not own, make no money.

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**Chapter 22: What About Home?**

Craig allowed Jack to guide him on down the stairs, with Dr. Payne not far behind them. He thought Green was following as well, but when he glanced back he didn't see him, or Johnson. Jack pushed the door opened and allowed Dr. Payne to step past them to exit before pulling Craig on through to the cold air waiting to envelope them. Dr. Payne motioned for them to follow her around the corner to the main entrance, but Jack shook his head. "You go on; we are going to wait in the car." He spoke just loud enough for the older woman to hear him."

"It's cold out here and he doesn't have a coat." Dr. Payne pointed towards Craig but kept her gaze on Jack as she came to a stop at the corner of the building. "I need to check him over and make sure he's okay."

"We aren't going back in there." Jack shrugged out of his leather coat and stopped Craig long enough to quickly put it around the boy, "How's that?" He asked, but didn't wait for an answer. He took a hold of Craig's hand and pulled him around Dr. Payne and towards the Gremlin sitting in front of the Volvo.

The cold took hold of Craig despite having his brother's coat around him and a shiver ran from the back of his neck down his back and on through his legs all of the way to his toes. He didn't argue with Jack, he let him pull him towards the Gremlin.

Dr. Payne trailed along behind them. "Jack, he was sedated, he should be examined by a doctor." The woman sounded genuinely concerned. Her voice trembled as she spoke, and Craig was sure it was from the damp cold that seemed to be drifting about them in the mist that swept to and fro in the shifting breeze. Craig felt as if he were surrounded by clouds that had fallen from the sky, and they were moving in towards him, trying to engulf his mind, and then pulling back as he struggled to keep his thoughts clear.

Jack pulled him to the front end of the Gremlin and easily lifted him onto the steamy hood where warmth seemed to drift up from the still hot engine, soothing away some of the chill that had taken a hold of him, but not all of it. He could now see Dr. Payne clearly, with her arms wrapped tightly around her in an attempt to stave off the same chill that had been fighting to penetrate Craig's own bones. "If you bring him inside I can..."

Jack turned towards the doctor, his jaw set hard as he spoke. "He's fine. He needs his medication, that's all." He spoke with a cold voice that caught Craig off guard.

"Jack, you know I would never do anything to hurt him." Dr. Payne took a step closer to them. "If he's been on medication, then the sedative could have adverse effects, you do realize that, don't you? A doctor needs to look at him. He needs an examination, some blood work…"

"That's for Bobby to decide. Don't worry; we'll take care of him, Joyce." Jack's tone didn't change, he sounded as if he was pissed at the woman.

Craig studied the doctor's face and was sure he could see worry and maybe a tiny bit of hurt. "How do you know Jack?" He asked the question as soon as the realization hit him. She had called Jack by his first name, and he'd replied in kind, calling her Joyce; not Dr. Payne.

Jack turned to look at Craig and his look seemed hard as steel. "She knew Mom. How do you think I know her?"

Craig nearly flinched at the angry sound in Jack's voice, and he wished he could take the question back. "Sorry." Jack probably had met Dr. Payne through their adoptive mother, but it just didn't feel right. He sensed Jack wasn't being honest with him about Dr. Payne, there was something more to how they knew each other than his brother was saying. He recognized something in his brother's eyes that gave it away, but he didn't care to ask him about it at that moment. He didn't care about anything except going home. He wanted to go home and hide in his mother's bed. He would take all of the pills Bobby gave him, he would eat any food that was set in front of him and he would sleep as much as Bobby wanted him to. He didn't care that he had gotten into trouble with his brother earlier; he just wanted to go home and be with him and feel safe again.

"At least let me check him over?" Dr. Payne stepped up to stand next to Jack.

Jack looked at Craig. "Are you feeling okay? You feel sick or anything?"

Craig shook his head and drew in a shaky breath. He felt a little confused. He wasn't sure how his brothers had found him, or why they were able to take him if he was in the custody of the state, like William and Jim had told him. "What's going on?"

Jack frowned at him. "How long were you knocked out for?"

"The sedative they gave him couldn't have been too strong. They probably thought he'd sleep all night though." Joyce Payne finally pushed in between Jack and Craig. "Craig, can you look up at me?" She cupped his chin in her hand and lifted his eyes towards light just behind her, to the right. She used her other hand to shield him from the light for a moment and then pulled it away, apparently trying to check his pupil dilation.

Jack looked as if he was about to argue with the woman, but instead let out a frustrated huff.

"Craig did they give you a shot or a pill?" Dr. Payne dropped her hand to his wrist and felt for a pulse.

"A shot," Craig muttered.

"I'm sure it was just a mild sedative to get you to sleep so they could bring you here without any arguments." Dr. Payne smiled.

"I told you, we'll get him in to his doctor. We'll let him check him over. He knows his medical history." Jack finally pushed back into his place directly in front of Craig, effectively pushing the doctor away.

Craig shivered a little harder as the heat from the car engine seemed to be diminishing.

"You need to get him out of the cold." Dr. Payne spoke quickly.

Jack turned to the woman and drew in a deep breath. "Look, I know what he needs, okay? He's my brother. Just go inside and get warm. I'll get him in the car and he'll be fine." His tone seemed to hold a little calm.

Dr. Payne directed her smile at Jack this time. "I know you haven't forgotten our talks. I also know that seeing me brings back some bad memories, but I don't take it personally." Her tone was more motherly than anything, and Craig felt drawn towards it again, just as he'd felt the comfort in her touch earlier; he sensed she was someone's mother. She was so much like Evelyn. Maybe that was why Jack's anger seemed to die so quickly. Her words seemed to explain part of Jack's anger, and the reason he felt familiar enough with the doctor to call her by her first name.

It would make sense for Evelyn to take Jack to a doctor she knew and was familiar with, wouldn't it? Jack might not have liked going to her, but he would have fallen into the motherly feel of her, just as Craig did. She would have done what she could to help. That might have even been how she and Evelyn Mercer got to know each other, maybe. It really didn't matter.

It made no difference why Jack seemed to not like being around the doctor, or how he knew her, but his mind had found something to concentrate on instead of listening to the words passing between Dr. Payne and his brother. His mind was trying hard to focus on something other than what had happened that day. The feeling of being ripped away from his home and the fears that had surfaced in such a short time were trying to roll around in his head and filling it with what ifs and trying to figure out how Jack knew Dr. Payne was a way of escaping it for the moment.

Jack turned and looked at Craig who wasn't really returning his gaze at the moment, he was staring out at the misty and frost and cold that was visible all around him. The air was cold but worse than just cold, it was wet but not raining. Every breath he sucked in felt wet and icy and his body seemed to be freezing up from the inside because of it.

"Hey, come on; let's get you in the car before you freeze out here." Jack took a hold of his arms and slid him back off the hood of the car. "I hope they hurry the hell up."

"I'm going in, but please have your brother call me? I truly think I can help." Dr. Payne said more, but Craig's mind was wandering again, filling with thoughts of home and safety and familiar walls to protect him. "I'm sure I'll be busy with the police for a couple of days, but that doesn't matter."

"I'll tell him what you said. But don't count on it. Craig doesn't want to talk to anyone about it. Bobby has let him decide that for himself. It never did any good to force him before, so…" Jack let his statement die as he pulled the driver's door open. "Climb into the back." He instructed the teen while pushing the seat forward.

Craig obeyed and climbed into the back seat. Jack leaned in and started the car, though it took a few cranks before the engine heaved out a loud rumble. He frowned when he held his hand out in front of one of the vents that should have been blowing air and played with the knob that should have kicked the fan into high, but only resulted in a strange whistling noise somewhere behind the dash. He frowned, slammed his left fist into the plastic just next to the knobs and buttons. The whistling was replaced by a low roar as air pushed through the vents, though the air wasn't all that warm, but it was better than being outside.

Jack turned his head to look at Craig and smiled. "Okay, now I'm going to get rid of the pain in the ass doctor once and for all." He pointed towards Dr. Payne. "Then I'll be right back."

"Jack, she got me out of there. Harris was chasing us, and she…" Craig started to speak quickly, not wanting his brother to be mad at some one's mother. It didn't make sense to him, but that was what he was feeling at that moment. "She called for help, didn't she?" He asked, not one hundred percent sure how else his brothers would have known to find him, if not for the doctor.

"Don't worry. I will be nice, I promise." Jack spoke quietly before pulling back from the car and pushing the door closed, only to have it bounce back open.

Craig watched as Jack struggled with the door three more times before giving it a hard enough slam that the entire car shook. The door stayed latched after the slam, but the knock seemed to kill the heater fan. The teen pulled Jack's coat tight around him and watched through the window while Jack talked to Dr. Payne. He almost wished he could hear their words, but was surprised at how quiet the car felt.

The damp was gone, but suddenly Craig noticed an odor in the air that he couldn't exactly identify. He thought he remembered the same kind of odor hanging in the car before, but not quite as strong, it held a hint of old gym shoes mixed in with hot rubber and citrus. He allowed his body to slide down in the seat and pulled Jack's leather coat up over his nose and mouth for protection against the smell. His eyes still hung on the sight of Jack and Dr. Payne talking. He was almost certain he could see a hint of a smile form on Jack's face and just before Dr. Payne turned away from him they exchanged a quick hug.

Jack climbed in behind the steering wheel and grumbled words under his breath before slamming the door hard enough to get it to latch. The force of the slam kicked the heater fan back into action and warm air started flowing again. It could have been warmer, but Craig wasn't going to complain.

Craig sat back up in his seat and watched Dr. Payne walk quickly to the front entrance of St. Vincent's. "I hate this place." He muttered before he realized it.

"Me too," Jack turned in his seat and looked at Craig. "You really okay?" He asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "I want to go home." He muttered, giving Jack a quick glance before diverting his eyes back towards the building.

"Me too," Jack managed a forced laugh.

That was when Craig remembered the sight in front of him earlier that day, Harris slapping handcuffs around his brother's wrists, "What happened today Jack?" He asked quietly.

Jack cleared his throat as if he was about to speak but nothing came. Craig finally gave his full attention to Jack in the front seat. "What happened?" He repeated.

"I think it might be better to let Bobby explain it." Jack muttered and reached his hand up to his face. It was hard to tell in the dark of the car, but it looked as if he wiped a tear away from his cheek.

"Did they arrest you?" Craig asked.

"Yeah, they arrested me." Jack's head nodded slightly.

"Why?" Craig was sure he should stop asking, but he wanted to know what had happened that day, what was the reason Harris had turned their lives upside down? Was it because of Adam Macks or something more? He had a right to know.

Jack looked at him; he could tell by the tilt that he was looking right at him. "Because Harris wanted to divide and conquer, that's why." His voice was quiet. "But it didn't work; we're too strong for that. You remember that, no matter what, okay?"

Craig felt another chill run through him. "Okay." He muttered, sensing there was something more going on than he knew, maybe something he didn't want to know. "Jack?" He spoke weakly, suddenly feeling just as alone in the back seat as he had felt locked up in that room with the mirror.

"Yeah," Jack had turned away by now and his voice was barely audible.

"Can I come up there with you? I'm cold." Craig felt small asking the question, but he didn't care. He wanted to feel close to someone.

"Come on." Jack turned back to him and waved his hand as if directing him.

Craig squeezed through the small space between the bucket seats and curled into the passenger seat. He hugged the coat around him and realized that Jack had to be freezing without his own coat. "Are you cold?" He couldn't stop the question.

Jack stared at him for a long moment. "I'm fine Craig." He didn't sound very convincing though.

Craig swallowed hard. "Why did they arrest you Jack?" He repeated the question.

Jack frowned deeper than Craig thought was possible but didn't answer the question. His head dropped and he turned away from Craig as if he were looking out the window to his left.

"It was because you shot Adam?" Craig pushed, he knew he should let it go for now. "But you saved Bobby. You saved all of us." He felt the sting of tears but held them back. "They can't do anything to you for that, can they?"

"Craig, stop." Jack snapped his head back up and looked at Craig. "Just stop. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know if I'm going back to jail or not, and I'd rather not think about it right now. Okay? I'm just glad we found you. It would have killed me going to court tomorrow without knowing where you were."

It took a moment for the words to penetrate the fuzzy feeling that seemed to be crawling across Craig's skin, "Court, tomorrow?" He managed to get the words past his stiff mouth.

Jack started to speak again, but the passenger door next to Craig jerked open. Craig startled at the sudden movement and was ready to leap across the seat to Jack, whose arm shot across the void separating them as if to shield him from impending danger.

"Jeeze sweetheart, calm down. The kid jumping out of his skin is understandable, but you need to relax a little." Bobby leaned into the car, slapping Jack's arm away. He grabbed hold of Craig and pulled him out of the car. "Now, let me get a real look at you." He said to the boy as he stood him on the sidewalk just outside the car door, he let his hands rest on Craig's shoulders and looked at him. He leaned down slightly. "Hell, you're tough; you ain't hurt none, are you?"

The tears that had been on the edge, teetering to and fro suddenly broke free and Craig's arms flung around Bobby's neck. He was going home now. He was going to be able to hold onto his brother, feel safe and block out everything that had happened that day. He would be able to forget about it, ignore it; pretend none of it had ever happened.

"Hey, it's okay kid. You didn't think we'd let Harris get away with his fucked up stunt, did you?" Bobby held onto him for a long minute, giving him a hard squeeze as if he knew Craig needed to feel him.

Craig opened his mouth, but nothing would come out. He buried his face hard into Bobby and hung on tighter.

"Craig, it's okay." Bobby leaned close to him and spoke the words quietly into his ear.

"Hey, Craig, you're okay." Angel's voice came from behind him just as a third hand rubbed on his back. "Come on now, we got shit to do." Then the hand was gone.

"Bobby, come on, we ain't got all night. Y'all need to be moving your ass." Jeremiah called from the Volvo parked behind them.

"You heard your brothers." Bobby pried Craig off of him. "Okay, get Jackie's coat off before the fairy freezes to death." He quickly helped the boy out of the leather coat and tossed it into the car, where it landed on Angel, who had taken up the space in the passenger's seat.

"Hey, watch it." Angel flung the coat towards Jack.

"You'll ride with me, in the real car." Bobby chuckled and gave the door a slam.

Craig's arms started shivering instantly from the damp cold. Bobby wrapped one arm around him and rushed him back to the Volvo just as the headlights on the car lit up.

Craig expected Bobby to open the back of the car, but instead his brother pulled on the front passenger door, pushed Craig into the seat and then squeezed in next to him.

"Bobby, man, you can't put him in the front seat with us; there is no room." Jeremiah spoke quickly. "There ain't no seat belt for him either." He sounded irritated.

Bobby slid Craig onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him. "I don't give a fuck. The kid's riding with me." He grunted as he adjusted Craig's position, pulling him into his lap.

"Yeah, but he can ride in the back." Jeremiah cried out.

"What the hell is wrong with you? This is the safest car in the world, ain't it? Hell, we shouldn't have to worry about seatbelts in the safest car in the fucking world Jerr'." Bobby laughed.

Craig looked at Jeremiah. "I can get in the back." He muttered.

"Hell no, I want you right here." Bobby sounded serious and if Craig had to be honest he liked the idea of sitting right there where he was, able to feel Bobby and know that he was close. Part of him was afraid he'd wake up and find himself trapped in that room at St. Vincent's, locked up tight, waiting for Harris and his men to come back for him. Bobby's hold on Craig tightened. "Just put the car in drive and move it Jerr'. We got shit to do, not much time to do it and I need to ask Craig questions. You know that."

Jeremiah shook his head. "Stupid ass, gonna get us all killed the way you act. You really think you can't ask Craig questions with him the back seat? It ain't safe for him to be in the front seat with no seat belt." He went on muttering under his breath as he shoved the gearshift into drive and pulled out from behind the Gremlin. "What the hell you gonna do if we have an accident?"

"You're the one who keeps sayin' this is safest fucking car ever made; stop your bitchin' at me." Bobby cried out, an irritated current carrying his voice.

"Even if we were to have a minor accident Bobby, we'd be cited for no seat belt." Jeremiah looked in the rearview mirror to make sure Jack and Angel were following him.

"Brother, you ain't happy if you ain't bitchin' about somethin', are you?" Bobby cried out. "What the hell is your problem? You need to learn to trust me."

"You'd better know what the hell you're doing Bobby. I swear if we end up in more trouble I am going to kill you myself." Jerry followed the drive back around the building to the street.

Craig looked up at Bobby, and could see a glint in his eyes. He was grinning inside, and scowling on the outside. There was a time not so long ago that he wouldn't have recognized the mischievous glaze across his brother's face, but now he seen it and he knew Bobby was chiding Jerry, spurring him on because it was fun for him to listen to the arguments that spilled out as a result.

"I know exactly what I'm doing, don't I Craig?" Bobby looked down at him and seemed surprised to find the boy meeting his stare. The man's eyes seemed to soften slightly around the corners and he gave him a quick wink. "I ain't gonna leave you in no back seat, not alone." He spoke the words quietly and his whole tone shifted. He was no longer joking.

Craig rested his head on Bobby's shoulder and let out a short shudder of air as he felt his body relax slightly. "You know everything Bobby." He muttered.

"Oh my God, you done got him brainwashed, don't you?" Jeremiah cried out.

Craig felt Bobby's body shake as the man laughed. "Hell Jerr', stop over reacting to everything, just drive the fucking car."

The car grew quiet though Craig was sure he could see the muscles in Jeremiah's jaw twitch and flex periodically. Bobby kept pulling in deep breaths, as if he were trying to calm down, or perhaps in heavy thought. Craig let his muscles relax and found his mind close to drifting off to sleep. He was sure they were heading home now, back to safety and some place familiar.

Jeremiah pulled the car to a stop at a traffic light and looked over at Bobby. "Where the hell are we going? It ain't like we can take him with us for this, you know that don't you? So tell me where I'm driving."

Craig's mind had been close to pulling him into a dark, soothing calm when Jeremiah's words dragged him back to reality. He tensed up as the meaning of Jerry's questions gradually wrapped around his consciousness. He started to sit up, pulling away from Bobby. "What do you mean?" He asked quickly without looking at Bobby.

"We gotta go check on somethings Craig." Bobby held onto him, pulling him back to where he'd been leaning. "Don't worry, it won't take long."

Craig felt his heart freeze up. "Where are you going to take me?" The words felt weak. He didn't want to be separated from his brothers again; he just wanted to go home where he was safe.

The car filled with more silence when the light turned green and Jeremiah pulled on through the intersection.

Bobby sighed and shook his head. "We ain't takin' you nowhere. You're going with." He gave Craig's shoulders a careful squeeze. "Okay?"

Craig could see Jeremiah's shoulders tense up behind the steering wheel. "What the hell are you doin' Bobby?" He asked. "That's a bad idea. Do you know how bad an idea that is? Do you?" He cried out.

"We don't have time to find a place to leave him that's safe Jerr'. We don't have time to drive him someplace, ask him the questions we need to and still do what we need to, okay? He's going with us. Don't argue with me on this one, you ain't got shit to say about it." Bobby's tone was different this time, he wasn't playing with Jerry, and he was ready to fight this one out with him he needed to.

Jeremiah shook his head slowly. He turned and looked at Bobby for a long moment. His mouth opened as if he was about to speak, but then it slammed shut as he heeded Bobby's silent warning to challenge him any further.

Bobby carefully pushed Craig up so that he was resting back against the seat. "Craig, I need to ask you some questions, and it they ain't gonna be easy. You can do this though, I know you can, okay?"

Craig swallowed at the fear that was still trying to surge inside of him. He was sick of it never ending. He'd been sure it was over when he'd seen Bobby in the stairwell, but now he was mentally screaming at himself what a stupid idiot he was. He should have known better, he should have known it wasn't over, not with his brothers.

"Harris asked you some questions, didn't he?" Bobby asked.

"Not really." Craig muttered.

"He must have asked you something Craig. He wanted you to tell him something. I want you to think real hard about what he said to you and tell us." Bobby kept his voice quiet.

Craig shook his head. "He didn't ask me about anything except the cemetery." He barely got the words out. He didn't want to talk about Harris, or the cemetery, or the day he'd just spent locked in a room with the man who felt as frightening as his own father had felt.

Bobby planted a hand on either side of Craig's face and pulled his eyes around to meet his stare. "You look at me and listen little boy. This ain't something you can pretend about. You gotta tell me everything that man said to you, everything he asked you. Jack's future depends on it. You got that?"

Craig felt the air around him disappear into a vacuum. The full meaning of Bobby's words seemed to sink into his very skin. Jack was going back to jail and they needed to know what Harris was after to keep that from happening. He understood Bobby and he nodded his head slowly to let him know he did. He understood, and he would do his best to tell Bobby what he could, but he honestly didn't remember a whole lot about Harris had asked him other than the man's insisting on him writing out his statement about what had happened on New Years. He'd done his best to block as much of it out as he could. The picture of Harris killing the metal chair earlier that evening ran through his mind and he swallowed hard. "He didn't ask me any questions." He kept his eyes on Bobby. "He wanted me to write down my statement about what happened at the cemetery. I swear Bobby; he didn't say anything about anything else." He felt his voice breaking as he forced the words.

Bobby's eyes squinted in the dark car, and he leaned a little closer. "Did that son of a bitch touch you? Did he hit you?" He asked.

Craig shook his head quickly and felt himself pull back from Bobby, only to have his brother's hold on him tighten. "I want to go home."

"You talk to me Craig; did he hit you at all? Did he threaten you?" Bobby pulled him closer to him. Craig stared into Bobby's eyes and let his mind play back the fit Harris had thrown in that room with the mirror. He did not want to talk about his time with Harris. He didn't want to think about Harris, he just wanted to forget about the whole day. It was a day that didn't have to ever happen.

The itch that had been crawling under the skin of the inside of Craig's right arm started to twitch hard. He stared at Bobby's eyes, trying to find the strength to answer his questions. No, Harris hadn't hit him. No, he hadn't hurt him, not really. He'd scared the shit out of him, and he'd mangled a helpless chair to draw more fear but he hadn't actually hit him. He tried to think of how to tell Bobby, but instead he just stared at the hard look on his brother's face. "Bobby, I just want to go home." He felt his free hand digging at the crawling under his skin.

Bobby's hand wrapped around Craig's left wrist and pulled it away from the itch that seemed to be traveling up his right arm. "That answers one question. He managed to scare you, didn't he? He threatened you." Bobby nodded his head slowly. "You listen to me. We are going to take Harris down for this. He's gonna pay, and the fucker he works for is gonna pay too. You don't worry about him, he ain't gonna touch you again. But I need to know what he was asking you. I need to know what he thought you could give to him."

Craig shook his head again. "But I told you already. The cemetery was all he talked about." He barely got the words out. He really did want to help Jack, he wanted to tell Bobby everything that he could think of, but right now, his mind felt over loaded. How could anything Harris had asked him help Jack?

Bobby didn't seem happy with the answer. He gave Craig a slow nod though and drew in a deep breath. "Think hard Craig, did he ask you about Adam at all?" He asked.

Craig's gut twisted and he started to pull back from Bobby. "No." He answered without hesitating. "He just seemed mad because he was dead."

Bobby sucked in another long breath and seemed to hold it for an extra second longer than he should have. "Did Macks give you anything Craig? Did he give you anything when you were with him?"

"What?" Craig didn't understand. "No."

"Think Craig. It might not have seemed like much. He might have given you something small, even a piece of paper, or…" Bobby was trying to think of some kind of example. His eyes flicked to Jeremiah as if he could help.

"Bobby, he didn't give him anything." Jeremiah shook his head. "If he had we would have found it already."

Bobby looked as if he was getting pissed. He looked back down at Craig. "Okay think; did Adam say anything or tell you anything that seemed strange? Did he show you anything or brag about coming into a lot of money?"

Craig's entire body started to itch as he remembered his father's promise of all of the things he was going to do to him. He had bragged about making money, about making lots of money by selling something, but that wasn't what Bobby was asking about. He knew what Bobby was asking but couldn't quite separate the two different meanings. He opened his mouth and tried to make his mouth work. One word would answer the question, just one. But he couldn't get enough strength behind his voice to even mutter a simple 'no'.

"That ain't working Bobby." Jeremiah spoke.

Bobby sighed and seemed to give up. He sat back in his seat and pulled Craig back so that he was resting against him. "There's something you know that's the only thing that makes sense. Something that Adam said to you or showed you, something that was important, but you didn't know it was important. You might not know what it meant at the time, but there has to be something." It was obvious that he was thinking out loud and not really talking to Craig.

Craig suddenly felt the urge to curl into a ball and melt away. "I want to go home." He repeated the desire that was eating away at his insides. "Please Bobby, take me home?"

Bobby didn't seem to hear him at first, but after a few seconds of quiet the man pulled him closer. "You're comin' with us. I ain't letting you out of my sight, not tonight." He whispered to him. "This is important Craig. If we don't take care of this shit tonight we won't have anything to use in court to protect Jack. Okay?"

Craig felt a shiver run through him. He didn't understand. "What happened? Why did Harris arrest Jack?" He didn't look at Bobby; he kept his eyes focused on the small slice of road in front of the windshield that was illuminated under the head lights.

"He's after something. He thought if he pressed charges against Jack and used that to scare you, then you'd tell him what he wanted to know. That's the only thing I can come up with. He had to separate you and Jack from us to scare you both. It worked too. He scared you. So I need to know everything you said to Harris." Bobby's voice was barely a whisper.

"I didn't say anything to him." Craig muttered, struggling against the urge to dig at his skin again.

Bobby sighed. "Okay, you need to tell me everything that you seen and heard from the second they grabbed you at the house, okay? Don't leave anything out."

"When can I go home?" Craig asked weakly.

"When I take you home, it's going to be for good and we ain't gonna be looking over our shoulder for trouble. You got that? Now start telling me what I need to know. The more you tell me, the faster I can get you home." Bobby was losing his patience. His tone was all too familiar.

Craig thought hard about the car ride he'd shared with William and Jim. He closed his eyes so that he could picture everything in his head and slowly started telling his brothers what they wanted to know as best as he could.


	23. Chapter 23

Yay! I finally got another chapter up! Let me know what you think, and thanks to all for reading :)

Do not own, make no money.

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**Chapter 23: Pep Talk**

Jeremiah listened to Craig describe where Harris' men had taken him, and the things they'd told him about taking him to Southfield. He was sure the kid had been terrified, still was terrified. He wondered what kind of horrors had run through his head when he'd been told he was never going to see his brothers again. Part of his heart felt a pang of guilt for not stopping the sons of bitches when they first put their hands on his little brother earlier that very day. If he'd known their I.D.'s were faked he would have fought them tooth and nail. Another part of him cringed at the idea of facing down more trouble than they already had. Jeremiah waited to hear something come out of the boy's mouth that would have some kind of effect on the outcome of their situation, but it never came.

Craig told how he'd been threatened with Juvi if he didn't answer their questions or do what he was told, and Jeremiah felt a small bit of pride at the idea of the kid clamming up despite how scared he was. He was just a little amused that the kid seemed more upset about losing the pictures he'd drawn in the tablet than Harris' yelling at him and threatening him. Maybe that was a good sign, maybe the kid was moving past his fears a little.

It wasn't until after Craig described Harris' fit with the chair and being drugged that the anger started to filter through the pride and amusement. Jeremiah wanted to reach out and hit the dashboard, but reminded himself quickly that was the kind of thing Bobby would do, and he didn't want to scare the kid any more than he already was. "Well, that didn't help." Jeremiah grumbled as he pulled the car over next to the curb.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Bobby cried out.

"We need to talk, all of us. We need to figure out what the hell we're doing next." Jeremiah put the car in park and looked at Bobby. "All of us, together. No more 'winging' shit. Not tonight. We need to make sure this ends now because my family ain't gonna survive another attack like the last one."

Bobby frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He didn't yell but the strain of holding it in was evident. He was confused, and Jeremiah knew why, it wasn't like he'd talked to any of his brothers about his troubles with his wife.

"My family ain't gonna last through any more shit Bobby." Jeremiah couldn't hold it in any longer. "My wife is about to leave me. My girls have been having nightmares. They don't know everything that's been going on, but they got eyes and ears and no matter how hard I try to protect them they can sense when things aren't right. Kids are good at that. They can feel shit without being told. I need to be sure that this ends tonight. No more guns, no more fighting for what every other person in this fucking world gets handed to them without so much as a fucking hang nail, it's called a normal life."

Bobby stared at him as if he were trying to digest a large chunk of coal. "Okay, brother, just calm down. What the hell you sayin' your wife's about to leave you? Camille loves you man, she ain't gonna leave your skinny, black ass for no reason. You want me to talk to her? I'll talk to her and fix shit for you, okay? Now just calm your ass down."

"No, no, no, you ain't gonna talk to Camille." Jeremiah shoved the gearshift into park and smacked the steering wheel with both hands. "That's not what this is about man. We gotta make sure this ends tonight. We can't leave nothing hanging, nothing to come back and bite us in the ass."

Craig flinched slightly at the strikes Jeremiah took at the wheel and then pulled his stare down to the darkened floor board.

"I know this has to be taken care once and for all Jerr'. That's what I'm doing. We are going to take Jessup Winston down, or Jesse Nicholas, or whoever the hell he is. What his name is don't matter, he's going down tonight no matter what name they carve into his grave stone, and this is going to end." Bobby pushed open his car door and climbed to his feet on the sidewalk.

Jeremiah sighed and followed suite, getting out of the car just in time to look back and see Jack guiding the Gremlin up to the curb directly behind the sedan.

"What is going on Jerr'?" Bobby walked around the car and stood next to him, looking more worried than anything at the moment. "You got problems you ain't talked to me about, don't you. Problems that started before this whole Harris shit hit us, right? What's going on with Camille?"

"I can't blame her Bobby; there's been a lot of changin', and a lot of crap. It just seems like it has been nonstop since Ma died. No stability. We need to be stable with work, and money, and time at home. Nothing has been stable. How can I blame her?" Jerry felt the fight drain from his voice as the words rattled off his tongue. The stress of home and family and money all seemed to push out, there was no way to hold it in. "There's been too much stress, and too many worries. Where is money going to come from? What are we going to do about the insurance, and the project? What about the girls, they need me home with them just as much as Camille and I ain't been there. I've put them on hold to be with my brothers, and that ain't fair to them." He let his head hang as he listened to his own words. "It seems just as our lives are going to settle back into normal one of ya' all call and shit get's stirred up again. I keep tellin' her that it's over, and then it ain't over and more shit comes at us. How can she ever trust me, or believe in me? She's trying, she really is, but she expects me to be the husband and father that I promised her I'd be." He sighed and looked up to meet what he expected to be Bobby's angry stare. Instead he saw the same big brother who had helped him tie his shoes the morning of his wedding, the one that cared about whether or not he was happy. Behind his older brother, he realized Angel and Jack had gathered quietly during his little speech.

"So, you think you need to go on home and let us deal with this?" Bobby asked his voice quiet and void of anger. Jeremiah knew that if he said yes he had to go home, that Bobby would understand and relent to his needs.

"Hell no, that's not what I'm saying." Jerry shook his head quickly. "I'm saying that this is the last time. We make sure we take out anyone that is going to come back to fuck us over so we know it's really over." He didn't understand how Bobby could think he wanted out of it now. He would never abandon his brothers no matter how bad it all looked, and they all knew that, or at least they should.

"Are you sure? We would understand if you had to go, we know what your family means to you." Jack spoke quietly; his eyes seemed to pierce through the cold, right into Jeremiah. "You shouldn't be here."

"Man, you guys are my family too, you know that." Jeremiah rushed the words, though he still had doubt inside whether he was making the wisest choice. "We need to make sure we end it this time. No more after this or you shitheads will be the only family I got. You understand that, don't you? I need to know all of my family is safe, that's my wife and daughters, but it's you too Jackie."

Jack nodded his head slightly. "I never thought about how this might be too much for you Jerry. Hell, you have been away from home a lot, and I'm sure Camille don't like the danger you're putting yourself in. We don't want to jeopardize your family."

"Both of you stop spouting off stupid shit like a couple of fucking girls, what's next, a bunch of tears and a group hung?" Bobby visibly shivered under the streetlight as he spoke. "Hell, Jerr', you're a married man." He snapped. "It ain't like we've been bringing this shit on. We never went looking for any of this; we're doing this to protect your wife and kids just as much as our own asses. Don't forget, all of this started with your project, and we're still bustin' our asses to get that fucking business deal of yours off of paper and makin' it real. This whole thing is about your family, not just you or us."

"I know that." Jerry couldn't help but feel a pressure hit his chest. It was part guilt, part irritation and part self pity. He knew it all started with his project and his plans; plans that were supposed to set his family up for a good life, not drag him and all of the people he cared about down into the gutter. His aspirations had killed his mother and that was something he would have to live with the rest of his life. He really hadn't expected Bobby to throw it in his face though. It seemed to drive it all home to him. "I know everything that has gone down, I've been right here for all of it Bobby, you don't gotta remind me I'm the reason we're all screwed right now."

Bobby scowled at him hard and Jeremiah felt a chill run through him. It was his turn to shiver outwardly. "I didn't say it was your fault Jerry, that's my point, none of this shit is anyone's fault. It's just facts brother. Sweet and Macks and Winston, they're the fuckers to blame. I figure the one thing we screwed up was not taking out Winston when we had the chance. I should've put a bullet between his eyes back when my gut told me too. Instead I let him live. This time I'm gonna do it right and your family, none of us, will have to look over our shoulders anymore; especially those three lovely ladies you've got waiting for you at home."

Jeremiah sighed. "So what's the plan?" Somehow hearing Bobby's words seemed to ease the apprehension he was feeling.

"I seem to do better winging it." Bobby shrugged his shoulders.

Jeremiah cringed on the inside at the sound of the words. "Not this time Bobby, I told you we need to make sure we get it right. So, come up with something." He was not going to leave anything to chance with this. He needed to work on saving his marriage and the only way he could do that was to be able to guarantee to Camille that nothing more could possibly happen with the business, or his brothers. He had to be able to tell her that everything was taken care of, for good, and they were all safe. No more men with guns or badges were going to be banging on their front door. They wouldn't have to hide her and the kids out with her parents anymore, and they didn't have to worry about exploding buildings, or cars being trashed. He had to be able to prove to her that his brothers wouldn't shadow their lives on a daily basis, the way they had been.

"If Cracker Jack here can drive this piece of junk at a decent speed, I can stop and pick us up some heat." Angel spoke quietly as he cocked his thumb in the direction of the loaner car behind them.

"There's nothing wrong with that car." Jack muttered.

"Really, you don't know what a real fucking car is, do you Jack?" Angel gave his brother a sideways glare. "You want that car? I'll tell you what, once all of this shit is done and over I'll buy you that car; how's that?" A small smile flashed towards Jack. "In the mean time, concentrate on what's going on here." Jeremiah had seen Angel work his magic on Jack before, able to lift him up when he was weighed down by worry.

Jack smiled, but it barely lit up his cheeks. It lacked the brightness that usually played there when he was happy, "Sure, Angel, whatever."

"Okay, you stop and get us some guns, and we'll go the hotel and find out what room the ass hole is in." Bobby agreed quickly.

"How are we supposed to find out what room he's in?" A small voice spoke from behind Bobby.

Jeremiah turned and looked at Craig, standing there listening to everything. "What are you doing out of the car?" He cried out.

Bobby closed his eyes and though he didn't speak out loud, his mouth was moving, '_One, two, three …'_ Jerry sighed and knew the man was counting to ten, though it had never worked for him in the past.

"You said all of us needed to talk." Craig muttered, obviously aware that he hadn't been invited to their little huddle in the middle of the street despite Jerry's choice of words when he'd called for a talk.

Bobby opened his eyes and was about to turn to Craig when Jack spoke up. "Jessup Winston." He had obviously been updated by Angel as to the results yielded from their conversation with Harris and his men. "Apparently he wasn't in that explosion at the warehouse like we thought and now he's changed his name."

Craig looked at Bobby and then back to Jeremiah. Apparently sensing his oldest brother was a bit irritated by his presence, he took the few steps needed to stand next to Jeremiah, effectively using him as a shield against Bobby. He didn't seem too surprised by the news that Jessup Winston was alive, but after experiencing his own father coming back from the grave to make his life hell this probably didn't seem like such a big deal to him. "Is he the one Harris is working with?"

"For, he's working for him." Bobby snapped. "You get your ass back in the car now, before you make yourself sick. We'll figure out what we're gonna do."

"Why don't you just call him? I thought you liked him." Craig didn't move from his spot next to Jeremiah.

"What the hell is with you?" Bobby's voice was strained, showing that he was reaching the end of his patience, but he seemed to be thinking as he eyed Craig.

Craig locked his gaze with Bobby. "He knew my dad." He muttered.

"So what if he knew that son of a bitch?" Bobby's voice rose in volume slightly. He obviously didn't like the boy's words and Jeremiah wondered to himself when the oldest and youngest Mercer brothers would admit to themselves that they had gone beyond the brother relationship and shared what was obviously more of a father and son bond. Hearing Craig refer to Adam Macks as his father did not strike Bobby in a positive manner, that fact was obvious.

"So he wants something that Adam had, that's what you said before." Craig muttered. He looked nervous, as if he were afraid to speak what was on his mind, "Something that was worth a lot of money, right?" He was piecing bits of conversations and the questions Bobby had asked him together and guessing at the rest of his words. Bobby hadn't told him much in the car, just as much as he needed to in order to ask the questions that hadn't yielded any hope for them.

Bobby stared at the boy for a long moment and then looked at Jeremiah. "He thinks we got what he wants." He nodded his head. "He thinks Craig gave us what he's after and that we're holding it back from him, keeping it for ourselves."

Jeremiah didn't understand the direction the talk had taken; surely their brothers weren't going to turn this into another game of wits; they didn't stand a chance if that was the case, "So what?" He asked. "We don't have it, and he ain't gonna let up on us if he thinks we do. We need to…" He was about to say they needed to kill the son of a bitch and rid themselves of him once and for all.

"So if he thinks we got it, we might be able to get him to tell us what exactly it is." Angel grinned. "If we know what he's looking for, we can get it and use it as leverage." His head started nodding and he stepped up to stand next to Craig. "Damn kid, I like the way you think." He actually chuckled as he spoke. "Smart kid," He reached up with his hand and ruffled at Craig's hair.

Craig didn't look away from Bobby. "Just tell him I already gave you what he wants?" He seemed as surprised by the idea as Jeremiah felt. Maybe he hadn't been thinking along those lines, but he'd sparked the idea and now Bobby and Angel would both want to run with it.

"Damn, you are thinking more and more like a Mercer every fucking day." Bobby shook his head. He looked as if he liked the idea, but his voice seemed to carry doubt. "You get your ass back in the car while the grownups talk about this." He pointed back to Jerry's car.

"But…" Craig looked as if he were about to argue.

"Move your ass or I'll warm it up the hard way." Bobby warned him.

Craig huffed once, but walked back to the sedan and climbed into the back seat as if he were pissed.

"You ain't considering that idea." Jeremiah looked at Bobby, sure that his brother had matured enough over the past few weeks to realize just how fucked up the idea was.

"It's a good idea. It ain't gonna change anything in the end, I'm still gonna put a bullet between the fucker's eyes, but it might give us something to hold over Winston, get him to call off Harris and his bogus charges." He flicked his eyes towards Jack and then back to Jeremiah again.

"He's got something Jerr'." Angel spoke instead of Bobby. "Craig's idea is a good one."

"No, it wasn't Craig's idea. He wasn't trying to come up with an idea, he was just trying to understand what the hell was going on." Jeremiah shook his head quickly and then locked his eyes on Bobby.

"If we can get a hold of what Winston is looking for it gives us more leverage." Jack stepped up closer to Angel. "We would finally be in control of the situation." He looked almost hopeful. The feeling of doom that had been permeating from his very being since he'd been released from jail earlier that evening seemed a little less suffocating. "Winston thinks Craig has it already. What if he can tell us something that will help Craig remember?"

"Listen to ya' all, you're tempting fate, I'm tellin' ya. We need to end it, not play it out like a fucking game." Jerry felt his heart sinking. He knew they weren't going to listen to him. Bobby thought he knew it all; Jack and Angel had fallen into that trap of believing Bobby knew it all, and Jeremiah was left tagging along with them because he didn't want to be the odd man out. He'd stepped back and let his brothers take the lead when they had gone after their mother's killers and look at where that had gotten them. They were still fighting the same war, and he wasn't even sure what it was all about anymore. Was it about his project? Was it about his brothers fighting back? Was it about their luck just being shitty all the way around? What was it?

Okay, it wasn't the same war, and maybe that's what made it so hard for Camille to stomach. It seemed trouble followed his brothers, it always had and if he stuck with them it would mean dealing with the same trouble. He had broken free of the endless cycle of jail, guns and trouble that seemed to have taken over all of their lives when they were teens. His brothers had tried to do the same, even Bobby, but it seemed problems kept creeping in around them all.

He knew he could walk away right then and there and be through with it. Winston would still be out there ready to ruin any chance he had of getting his project off the ground. It would mean the end of his business plans and all that he'd been working so hard for. He could give up his dream and get a regular nine to five job and be happy just so long as his wife and babies were waiting for him at the end of the day, that wasn't an issue. He wanted the best for them, but that meant keeping them safe and out of harm's way. He'd thought the best way to take care of them was to get his business up and running and leaving them something substantial to fall back on when they were older. That's what he'd thought he was fighting for.

Keeping his wife and kids safe shouldn't mean turning his back on the rest of his family. How was he supposed to turn his back on his brothers? Hell, all of the fighting and scratching and clawing the past few months, it had nothing to do with clearing the path for his business dealings; it had to do with family and not having to choose which was more important because hell, they were all his family.

His brothers were the only connection he had left to his childhood and Evelyn Mercer. She wouldn't have expected them to back down, hell she wouldn't have approved of all the tactics Bobby used, but she would have expected them to do something to keep Jack out of jail and Craig in the only home he'd ever really had. She would expect it because they were her sons, they were brothers, and for a long time they had no one else, just each other. Brothers did that kind of shit for each other, it was a lesson Jeremiah had learned soon after Evelyn took him in. His mother put stock in family and she expected her boys to do the same no matter how old they were. She'd told them every day of their lives that your brother will watch out for your back. Brothers fight with you even if they are pissed at you. Brothers bitch you out for bein' an idiot, but no one else could do say a cross word to you. A brother could piss you off, but no one else could be pissed off with him. That's just how it was; it was what made them a real family. They didn't have the blood to tie them together but he felt closer to his brothers than even his wife in some ways.

Bobby stepped up to Jeremiah and dropped both of his hands on his shoulders, effectively bringing him out of his mental tirade and drawing him back to reality. "Jeremiah, we need to have something to work with here. If we take out Winston who's to say some other ass hole won't step into his shoes and come right back at us, thinking we have whatever the hell they're after? It's not gonna end just with getting Winston off our ass. You got that?" He sounded calm, but his eyes were dancing under the streetlight as the thrill of this new challenge seemed to take hold. "If you can't do this, we understand, but if you want it to end for good, this is how it's gotta go down."

Jeremiah looked from Bobby to Angel and then to Jack, who had managed to ease his right thumb up to his teeth and was now gnawing at it. His doubts seemed to melt, replaced by the feeling that his soul was finally whole while standing in the presence of his brothers. He needed Camille and his brothers, not one or the other, and he had to fight for what he needed just as they did. "No I'm with you, it's my fight too."

Bobby grinned. "Then let's get moving."

"Damn, I'm gonna regret this, ain't I?" Jeremiah shook his head slowly and watched Bobby's brisk stride as the elder headed for the driver's door of the Volvo. "Oh hell no, you get your lily-white-ass out of my driver's seat." He called out and moved to push Bobby away from the door as Angel and Jack headed back to the beat up AMC.

Bobby looked at him and though he didn't say anything Jeremiah was sure he could see some kind of understanding in his brother's eyes. Bobby didn't have to say he understood Jerry's doubt and worry, it was obvious he did, and there would be no need to ask forgiveness later for his hesitation or his temptation to back away from the whole mess. None of his brothers would blame him or bring it up later, but at least they knew and could relate to what he was dealing with. They would be his brothers and support him as only Mercers could. He was sure Bobby would have some kind of smart ass remarks to make about how Camille had him whipped, but that was just part of talking to Bobby, no matter what the subject. Right now he had to put that all in the back of his mind, he needed to concentrate on the task at hand, finding Jessup Winston.


	24. Chapter 24

Sorry it's been such a long wait guys! I thought I'd have a chance to get a lot of writting done when I went on vacation, but there was just too much to see and do :) It will not happen again, I promise! As always, please review and let me know what you think? Thank you all for being so patient, and special thanks to those who do review, you guys are the best!

Do not own, make no money.

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**Chapter 24: They're Mercers**

Craig watched from the back seat of the car while his brothers finished their talk. The emotions were churning around inside him like a storm about to unleash. He couldn't reason away the feeling of being rejected at that moment. He wanted to feel close to his brothers. Just minutes before he'd practically been sitting in Bobby's lap feeling safe and protected, and that had ended with no warning when Jeremiah stopped the car, looking upset. The security of Bobby's arm around him wasn't something he was willing to give up so easily after facing the possibility of never feeling it again.

His brothers scrambling from the car after Jeremiah's little fit had left him feeling cold and alone. Jeremiah had said that they all needed to talk. He'd been struggling with wanting to feel like he belonged for so long and it just felt right to join them outside of the car. If he hadn't said anything Bobby never would have known he was there, listening and taking in the information being shared. He had a right to know what was going on. He had a right to know what was going on with Jerry and he had a right to know what his brothers were planning. He had a right to know who had been behind his apparent kidnapping and Jack's arrest. It was his business just as much as theirs and he didn't want to be left out. He was tired of not being included. He'd spent most of the day thinking he'd never see his brothers again, and he wanted to fee close to them now.

Being sent back to the car with a threat of his ass being warmed over was almost more than he could take. He felt pissed and hurt and alone. He wanted Bobby to put his arm around him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but at the same time he was pissed at being dismissed as if he was a small child. Another part of him wanted nothing more than to not feel anything at all. He just wanted it all to go away.

If he hadn't been pissed he never would have gotten into the back seat of the car. As he sat and watched his brothers he realized that when they did get back in the car he wouldn't be able to get into the front seat and soak his frayed nerves in the closeness of his brothers. A seat would separate them and Bobby would be so wrapped up in his plans for Winston that he would ignore the sulking teenager in the back seat.

If he spoke up and tried to get his brother's attention he would be yelled at or dismissed, because what they were planning was important and he'd be expected to understand that. He knew it was important, he wanted them to get rid of the threat that seemed to be hanging over them all, and still he resented it. He could hear Bobby telling him to stay in the back seat and keep quiet and leave them alone so they could take care of business. The words hadn't been spoken yet, but it was what he was used to hearing. It hadn't happened, his brothers were still outside the car, finishing their talk, but the whole idea of it seemed to increase the frustration rising in him. Tears stung at him and he felt his throat tighten up to the point that his voice would choke if he tried to speak.

He watched the four of them huddle a little closer together. Their mouths moved and heads bobbed as they agreed to whatever one of them said. Then Bobby was facing Jerry and flashing that smile that he seemed to summon every time he got his way. Before he knew it Bobby was heading for the driver's door and pulling it open. Jerry pushed Bobby away before he'd had a chance to climb in behind the wheel and Bobby nearly cackled when he laughed at Jerry's words. "Hell Jerr', you can't drive worth shit, but if you insist." He moved around the front of the car and looked through the window at Craig as he opened the front door. "Get your ass up here little boy. You ain't getting away from me that fucking easy." He left the front door open and moved to the rear door, pulling it open. He waited for half a second before reaching in, grabbing Craig's arm and pulling him out to the sidewalk.

Within a matter of seconds the back door was slammed closed and Craig was squeezed into his tight quarters, sharing the seat with his brother. Bobby's left arm circled his shoulders and held him close. Craig watched Bobby pull his door closed while Jeremiah put on his seatbelt. He waited for Bobby to yell at him for getting out of the car. He was ready to argue with him, almost hoping for the chance to channel the angry frustration building inside of him in some direction rather than holding it in. He was met with silence as Jeremiah shifted into drive and pulled out onto the street.

Muscles that he didn't know were tensed up started to relax and he turned his head to his right, letting his face press against Bobby's shoulder, welcoming the safe sensation that filled him. Bobby seemed to sense the conflict inside of him and squeezed on him, pulling him harder into him. "You still pissed at me? I know you wanted to be a part of shit. But I don't want you coming down with pneumonia on top of everything else."

Craig didn't bother trying to speak right away. He just closed his eyes and let the brief calm wash over him. It wouldn't last, he knew that. Calm never lasted long with his brothers. He drew in a few deep breaths before daring to ask any questions. "What are you going to do?" He finally mumbled the words.

He listened as Bobby and Jeremiah started rattling off what was obviously only a partial plan. "We find out what room he's in at the hotel." Jeremiah spoke first. "Do we call him or do we knock on his door?"

"I say we knock on his door." Bobby grumbled. "And then we hold him down at gunpoint and reason with him calmly." He added with a little more force to his voice.

"Listen to yourself. You want to reason with him and hold a gun on him at the same time?" Jeremiah asked.

"I said we'd do it calmly." Bobby laughed but there was a nervous texture to it that Craig wasn't used to hearing. Or maybe it had been there before and he just hadn't been familiar enough with his brother to recognize it; he wasn't sure, but he didn't like hearing it now. Bobby continued talking. "We could take a can of gas with us, if you don't like the idea of using guns."

"Now that would look real nice, walking though a hotel with a can full of gasoline." Jeremiah managed a laugh, and though it sounded nervous it didn't have the same effect on the boy.

Craig finally opened his eyes and looked up at Bobby. "What are you going to say to him?" He wanted to know how this was going to play out. He needed to be able to picture it in his mind and will the outcome to be in their favor.

Bobby looked down at him and his eyes lost the glimmer they'd been carrying as he began to give a brief outline of a plan for making contact with Winston. Whether they would try to reason with him or if there would be threats didn't seem quite clear, it seemed it depended on how well Winston received the news that they were onto him and his men were sitting at the police station. The only thing Bobby seemed sure of was that they were going to tell Winston they had what he wanted with hopes of him tipping the scales to their advantage.

Craig had heard enough earlier, when they had all gathered outside the car, to piece together what was going through his brothers' minds, and he knew his own remarks had sparked the idea, but their plan didn't seem too thought out, and the details were just as sketchy. He did like being included, he felt involved at some level, even if he was sure Bobby would keep him out of the way the whole time, he felt as if he was helping, somehow, and that felt good for a change. "No matter what, Winston has to believe that we know what he wants from us, that we have it, and that we are willing to use it to our advantage."

"With any luck it will be enough for Winston to slip up and tell us what it is he's after." Jeremiah added, his nodding head illuminated briefly by the streetlights passing by then. "Otherwise this whole screwed up plan of yours will turn into one hard kick in the balls." He didn't sound too happy.

"Don't worry Jerr', if that's the case, we still got my original plan to fall back on." Bobby rested his head back and sighed.

"What plan is that?" Jeremiah turned on his signal before making a careful left hand turn.

"The one where I put a bullet in his brain, what other plan did any of us have?" Bobby's voice came out strained. "Hell, we won't be any worse off than we are now if it comes to that."

Craig could feel the tension in the car and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat as a heavy silence fell around him. His brothers were both thinking about what was coming, and it was clearly not something either of them was looking forward to. They didn't want the encounter they were getting closer to with every second that passed. They had been backed into a corner, Craig could feel it, and that gave him an odd sense of dread. If his brothers felt as if they were trapped did that make this a do or die mission for them? Would it ever end for them?

"This is going to end it, tonight." Bobby spoke quietly, as if he was able to read Craig's thoughts. "One way or another it ends."

A shiver ran through the boy's body, he wished he could think of something to say but his mind was swirling around the idea of his brothers facing down the one man that nearly ripped them apart. He had to struggle to keep his mind from falling into the old game of 'what if'. He let his head rest against Bobby again and concentrated on counting the streetlights slipping past the window in front of him. His ears honed in on the sound of the warm air pushing through the vents and his brothers seemed to have lost any need to talk anymore. Vibrations of the tires against the street seemed to run through his body and his mind slowly fixed on that feeling, clouding over and turning him light headed and groggy.

His mind drifted slowly and it didn't take long for his eyes to slip closed. The vision of his mother standing under an apple tree in full blossom felt familiar. Her smile was sober and her eyes were bright and alive. No drugs and no Adam to dull the life out of her had meant some happy memories to hold onto, though it had never lasted long. There were scattered crumbs of laughter, true happiness that clutched at him during the brief reprieve of being his father's property. Each time Adam found them was harder than the last. It meant the end of freedom. Each time he was plunged back into the dark. It seemed he never seen the sun or trees or grass when Adam was around. When Adam was gone the entire world turned green, cool, and big. No buildings to block out the sun. The dream was a happy one, not a nightmare, and he allowed himself to fall completely into it. How much of it was true memory and how much was made up didn't matter; a small white house resting beside a narrow country road with cows grazing in the field next to it. Apple trees lining the fence on one side of the road, an old mailbox resting on top of a discarded fence post just at the end of a gravel drive, it felt fresh and clean.

His blue bunny rested in the branches of the tree his mother stood under. The man was on his knees next to her, digging a hole in the ground, laughing and inviting him to play with him. He was thrilled. The feel of damp, dark dirt was new to him and the smell of it, heavy and cold was a pleasant change from hot blacktop and concrete. He liked his mother's friend and wished he'd come and take them away from his father more often. He wanted to help, he wanted to make his mother's friend happy so he could get his bunny back; but he liked helping too. It made him feel good. Maybe if he helped enough, he wouldn't have to go back to Adam again. The man digging in the dirt seemed hidden in shadow and Craig couldn't see his face, but he didn't care, he knew him and he liked him. If this man was here, then it meant Adam wasn't around and he liked that.

The man smiled at him and leaned forward, reaching for him, and Craig didn't pull away, he wasn't afraid. He wanted to see his face and be sure who it was he was trusting, but just as the face emerged from the shadow under the tree the sun shine seemed to intensify on him, glaring his face into hot white just as a horn sounded loudly.

Craig awoke with a slight start, the car horn was fading, but it had obviously been sounded in Jeremiah's direction as he made a last minute turn off of the street. Craig shifted his body slightly and Bobby laughed. "You get your beauty sleep caught up?"

Craig sat up slightly, just enough to remind himself he was sandwiched into the front seat next to Bobby. For some reason he felt as if he'd had a nightmare, despite the fact that he could remember the sensation of contentment hovering over him. Guilt was the best description for what he felt, though he wasn't sure why. The dream had been vivid, though it was fading quickly, and there was an uneasy undercurrent flowing below that contented feeling.

"You stay here, I'm gonna go with Jeremiah." Bobby's voice was quiet and his eyes seemed to be staring though him at the moment.

"We ain't waiting for Angel and Jack?" Jeremiah didn't look away from his task of steering the car into an empty parking space.

"We ain't goin' up yet. We're gonna check around though, get a feel for our surroundings." Bobby spoke quickly as he pushed his door open.

"Can't I come with you?" Craig asked weakly, already knowing that his brother was not about to let him go inside. He didn't understand why it should matter though, it wasn't as if he had to be protected from what they were going to say or do. He'd already been subjected to much worse than any of them wanted to admit.

"You've got the important job here. You gotta keep your eyes open for Angel and Jack and make sure they wait right here for us." Jeremiah turned off the engine and looked at the fourteen year old. "I'm gonna leave the keys here with you, and my cell phone. If you have any kind of trouble you call Angel." He left the keys in the ignition. "If you get too cold you can run the engine." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out to Craig carefully.

Craig took the phone and let out a long breath. "I don't know why I can't come." He muttered, though honestly he did know, and part of him understood too; that just didn't make it easier for him to be left behind in the car where his mind could start playing games and stir up new worries for him to dwell on.

"Look, I need you to stay here so I don't have to worry about keeping an eye on you, okay?" Bobby was out of the car already, but he leaned back inside, his face directly in Craig's. "You lock up the doors and don't unlock them for anyone else, you got that?" He wasn't asking, not really.

Craig tried to hold in his frustration because he truly did understand why he needed to stay. He didn't have to like it though, or be happy with it. He gave Bobby a quick nod and looked away. He could feel the frown creasing at his forehead and he avoided making eye contact with Bobby.

"Good boy." Bobby gave him a quick pat before pulling back out of the car. "Lock it up." He spoke just loud enough for Craig to hear him through the closed window.

Craig quickly locked the windows and watched as Bobby and Jeremiah walked across the parking lot towards the elaborate building on the other end of the parking lot. It looked more like a mansion nestled in the middle of the plaza, lights glistening off the thinning mist still hanging in the air. Craig let his body slide back into the seat where Bobby had been sitting. He was wide awake now. His short nap apparently had sharpened his senses because several minutes later he heard the grumbling, uneven chugs of the Gremlin long before it came into view.

* * *

Bobby stood next to Jeremiah, staring at the clerk behind the check-in desk. "Credit card," He poked at his brother who seemed slightly perturbed at the idea of renting a room.

"Do you have any idea how much a room at this place costs? We ain't gonna rent a room." Jeremiah turned to him, scowling hard. "You want a room, you use your card."

"I don't have a card, and I don't want a room, we need one." Bobby turned and looked at the man staring them down. "You mind if we discuss this in private?" He let his annoyance show, but the only response he got from the older gentleman was an eye roll, which dug at him a little as he grabbed Jeremiah's arm and pulled him back from the tall counter. "What the fuck is wrong with you? We need to rent a room for the night so we have someplace close, to watch the son of a bitch."

"That was not part of the plan Bobby." Jeremiah shook his head, keeping his voice at a whisper and yet managing to yell.

"It just came to me. We can get Craig out of the car and into a warm bed for a few hours, and there ain't no way Winston is going to expect us to be right here, under his nose." Bobby allowed a tingle of pride to wash over him for thinking so quick. It had come to him just as they'd approached the front desk. The attendant had asked if he could assist them, and the idea had just popped into the elder Mercer's head. "We need a room." He repeated the words to Jeremiah that he'd spoken in response to that question.

"The best thing for Craig would be to get his ass home and into his own bed." Jerry argued, but there was a twitch at the corner of his left eye, a sure sign he was about to give in.

"No, that's the last place any of us need to be right now, we need to stay away from the house until this shit is settled." Bobby shook his head. The more he thought about it, the better sense it made. "I'm betting Winston is in one of their more pricey suites and we need to get as close to him as we can." He let the implied message sink in to Jerry's already frazzled brain before going on. "I'll pay you back later; I got a little money left from what I'd been saving before." He was being honest. As much as he hated to admit it, he did still have some of his hockey money left over, sitting in a bank account drawing interest. He'd been hoping to stay out of it for as long as possible, maybe have something to fall back on when he was a little older. But this was important, and he could part with enough of it to get a room at the ritzy hotel Winston was holding up in at the moment. "We can keep an eye on the son of a bitch, spy on him, good shit like that." He tried to keep his voice quiet as he flashed as innocent a smile as was possible for him towards the hotel clerk who was watching them closely, as if he didn't trust their intentions.

"Bobby, Camille is already worried about money, I can't spend dollars we don't have to spare; it just ain't gonna happen." Jeremiah sighed.

"I'll give you the money back first thing in the morning when the bank opens." Bobby pushed, seeing that his brother was about to cave. "Just rent a good room for one night. That's all we're gonna need. I'll even pay you interest if you want me to."

Jeremiah reached into his back pocket for his wallet. "Hell, gonna run me broke before this is over." He grumbled the words under his breath. "I expect interest back with this when you pay me. You'd better not be shittin' me about having money in the bank brother, or I'm going to come after your sorry ass." He was still muttering as he turned and walked back towards the check-in. "I need a room with two double beds." He spoke clearly to the older gentleman who was still eying them both closely.

"Actually, we should have a suite, don't you think?" Bobby quickly stepped up to stand at Jeremiah's side. "I mean, we don't want to be too crowded, do we?" He gave Jeremiah a quick grin then looked at the hotel employee in front of them. "You got some suites open, don't you? A good friend of ours is staying in one, I'm sure. Jesse Nicholas is here, right?"

The older gentleman seemed to go rigid under his starched uniform attire. "I'm sorry sir; we do not give out information such as that." His voice felt as stiff as the collar of the maroon and gold blazer that appeared to be choking him. Maybe that explained the nasally drone with which he spoke, but it didn't provide an excuse for the look of distain that lined his thin lips and pinpointed eyes.

Bobby wanted to lash out at the snobbish air emanating from the ass hole; instead he bit hard on the inside of his mouth. They needed that suite; he couldn't afford the pleasure of busting out the old man's teeth at the moment, but his mind did produce a quick little picture of the damage he could do to the jerk if he had a few minutes and not so much at stake.

Jeremiah turned to Bobby, his voice, even and sincere, broke through Bobby's mental picture of the clerk sobbing like a little girl, his nose and lip bloody. "You know, if Jesse isn't here, then maybe we got the wrong place. He did say he was going to leave instructions with the front desk." His eyes seemed to sparkle with delight. "He did say he would pay for our suite, and Angel's." He shrugged his shoulders. "Let's go give him a call and find out what hotel he's in. I'm sure if he is here he ain't gonna like us being treated like some scum off the streets, and he'll want to move." He scowled. "Hell, we got too much riding on this deal with him to be playing games with a lowly hotel employee." He stuffed his wallet back into his pocket. "I didn't want to add the expense to my credit card anyway, it's too much of a hassle, you know, trying to separate what he's gonna reimburse us for."

Bobby was thrown off track for just a second, and then he understood what Jeremiah was doing. He cringed inside at the idea that Jerry was trying to pull the kind of scam that usually only Angel could manage. He was sure that the clerk was going to see right through the whole lie; hell, it wasn't set up at all. Angel had a way of thinking far enough ahead to pull a con job off spur of the moment.

"I'm sorry gentlemen; you said Mr. Nicholas was expecting you?" Uncertainty clouded the features of the man behind the counter. He checked his watch and sighed. "Let me check with him." He looked back up to meet Bobby's gaze. "What name can I give to him?"

Bobby was certain they were about to lose what little control they had on the whole situation and was about to tell the jerk manning the front desk to forget the whole thing, that they would just call Winston, or Nicholas, themselves, but Jerry spoke too quickly for him.

"You tell him that William and Jim are down here giving you a hard time about a room. He'll know who we are." He seemed proud of his own quick thinking at the moment.

Bobby held his breath while he watched the clerk dial the room suite from the phone on the front desk. His mind grabbed hold of the number, 1017. He figured things were going to go downhill from that point, and he'd better have as much information as possible. He also made a mental note to bust Jeremiah upside the head, as soon as he had the chance, for pulling such a stupid stunt and ruining the one chance they had to get close to Winston.

The clerk mumbled words over the phone, and then after just a few seconds he ended the call and turned to look at the men. "He said to give you each a single room, no suite."

Bobby nearly choked on his surprise. Jeremiah just chuckled and took the two key cards the man was handing over.

"The rooms are close to Mr. Nicholas' suite, and he did say he expects a report from you both as soon as you are settled in." The man looked as puzzled by the developing circumstances as Bobby felt; obviously he had been expecting instructions to toss the two of them out on their asses.

"Oh, don't worry about that, we are definitely going to give him a report." Angel's voice filled the lobby.

Bobby turned to see him walking in with Jack, Craig sandwiched protectively between them. "I was gonna come back out for you all, you were supposed to wait at the car." He snapped the words, more towards Craig than Angel or Jack. He looked at Angel. "We got rooms." He grinned, allowing his nerves to settle, and looked at Jerry. He wanted to tell him that he did good, but now wasn't the time, maybe later, when he trying to figure out a way to get some money into his brother's bank account. He may not have had to spend any money, but it was the least Bobby could do for his little brother. If he needed a hand he'd give it to him. He just had to come up with a way to do it tactfully; he couldn't have any of his brothers thinking he was growing soft in his old age.

Craig seemed to gravitate to Bobby instantly, despite the irritation he'd let slip at the sight of his youngest brother slithering in between Jack and Angel. He knew the kid needed some attention, he really did, but they had deal with Winston and he didn't want to expose the boy to anything more that could add to the emotional problems he was obviously battling. Despite his desire to keep Craig out of harm's way, he couldn't bring himself to take him to Johnny's or leave him with Sofi or Camille; he didn't think Craig could handle either of those options. He was willing to keep him as close as possible, but he needed him to listen to what he told him. So far it hadn't worked out as he'd hoped. His only consolation at that moment was that he was with Angel and Jack, and not running around on his own.

Bobby let his right arm drape across the kid's shoulders and pulled him closer to him. "You gotta watch these two; they'll get you into trouble." He looked at Jack and Angel. Jack looked wore down. Hell, his day had been hell. He probably needed a warm bed and just as much assurance as Craig did at that moment, but there was no way he'd take it. He wasn't a kid any more, no matter how hard it was for Bobby to admit that, it was the truth. Jack wouldn't want to be treated like a kid, he'd want to be a part of everything they did that night, and he'd want to be a big part of it. No gas cans for Jack, not tonight.

He'd have to try to find a few minutes to pull Jack off to the side and get him talk to him about how fucked up the whole jail situation was making him. There was no sense in trying to get him to sleep, he wouldn't give in as easily as Craig would, but he still needed to talk about the shit that had gone down that day. He had more shit to face when morning came around, unless they were able to get some information from Winston. He was a Mercer though, he'd been through hell most of his life and made it through. He was scared in ways most people couldn't see, but he was strong and he'd be just fine in the end.

Bobby sighed and looked from Jack to Angel, and then to Jeremiah. He knew everything he had taught his brothers, especially Jack, was going to play a big role in what went down in the next few hours. He couldn't help but wonder now if he'd been the best big brother for them. He had tried to teach them how to fight, and to be fair. He'd taught them how to lie and cheat too, but to be fair when they chose the people they were going to lie to and cheat against. This was like a final test for them. Everything seemed to hinge on how well the Mercers could carry themselves and how easily they could read each other. Everything was going to be improvised from this moment on, whether Jeremiah wanted to admit it or not. Their plan was basically to play it out as it happened, but hell, that's what they did best.

He couldn't help but wonder what his brothers were all thinking at that moment, but now wasn't the time to ask. Now was the time to act. So why were they standing in the lobby of one of the fanciest hotels in the city just staring at each other? Maybe, on some level, they were trying to delay the inevitable; to have just a few more moments of what was normal for them before turning their lives upside down once again. Did they all have what it would take to dig themselves out of the hole they were in.

"Let's get Craig into a bed before he falls on his face." Angel finally broke the silence that had fallen between them all.

Angel had taken that step into the unknown with those words, now Bobby nodded his head and followed him with his response. "Let's get this shit done, brothers." His brain filled with his mother's voice from years before. _"They are your brothers Bobby. They're Mercers."_


	25. Chapter 25

Wow, I finally got a chapter ready! Sorry guys, but work is getting demanding and I need the paycheck. You guys are great, and I will try to get the next chapter up much more quickly, but I can't make any promises :( Let me know what you think, I appreciate the reviews!

Do not own, make no money...

* * *

**Chapter 25: Taking Action**

Jessup Winston sat back into the comfortable, black leather of the sofa centered in the middle of his suite. He stared at the cordless handset in his hand and shook his head as he hit the button to disconnect the call from the front desk. James and William; what the hell were those idiots up to? Hell, he'd made a mistake pulling both of them out of Austin to assist him with this whole project. He'd thought they might come in handy, since they weren't known by anyone local, but they had turned out to be more trouble than they were worth. They were good men, loyal men, that he would never dispute, but they were still new to the game. He could relate to how they felt, he'd been in their shoes at one time.

His father had kept him ignorant to his true business dealings most of his life. Hell, he'd been absent most of his childhood, so hiding what he did hadn't been difficult. It wasn't as if he'd been close to the man, even as an adult, when his father had reached out to him, begging for a relationship of some kind. He'd felt sorry for the man. Hell, he'd been alone, and seemed sincere. The doors of truth had opened slowly, small hints made as to what his father really was, at first, and then larger signs of the not so legal business dealings going on behind locked doors. By the time he'd realized what his father did to pay for his college and the backing he'd offered for his son's first real, legitimate business venture, he'd forged a relationship with the man that he didn't seem to be able cut free. As angry as he was when he realized the truth, part of him felt in awe that his father was one of the most influential presences in the nation's crime world. He could remember how he fought against following in his father's footsteps. He'd been new to the life, new to the fact that he was the son of a man who made his money lying, swindling, and killing. He had despised his father's business for years, but had loved the man and wanted to stay close to him despite it all.

He had sworn never to turn into the same kind of man as Arthur Nicholas, yet here he was, disappointing his mother, again, and being a disgrace. He had gone against everything she believed in. He was ready to go home, but he wasn't sure if his mother would welcome him as she had been prepared to do before everything literally blew up in his face. He yearned for her to accept him back as only a mother could, the same as she had always done in the past, but this might be the one deception that could finally sever the one true relationship he had left to hold onto. His mother's pride in him had been long lost, but her love had always been there, and her forgiveness had always been a given. She never approved of his mistakes, but she always forgave and welcomed him back. This time was different; this time she'd been told he was dead. He'd hurt her in ways he'd never anticipated that he could, and his heart wrenched at that thought. He'd spoken to her once, while he was still in the clinic, recuperating from the burns he'd acquired during the warehouse explosion. He had never thought he would hear such despair his mother's voice, despair and nothing shy of pure loathing. Tears stung at his eyes while his mother's words echoed in his head. "You are not my son. My son is dead. Do you hear me Jessup? You're his son, not mine."

Yes, 'his' son. The son of Arthur Nicholas was given the name Jesse Nicholas at birth. The name had been changed before he was even out of diapers. His name had been changed to Jessup Winston in an attempt by his mother to cleanse him of the tainted blood his father had passed down to him. Her maiden name, the name of her father, the preacher who raised her to be righteous and good; it had been thrust upon him when he was too young to know the difference, or the reasons. Jesse Nicholas seemed to be the suitable name for him now. He was after all Arthur's son, no longer a Winston, but a Nicholas. There was no longer any hope of being a good man, but lost to the world his father had introduced to him later in his life.

He was sure he'd lost his mother, and the name that had meant so much to him for most of his life. It wasn't the first loss he'd faced. He'd lost so much more over the years. The chance to live a life with the one person he truly loved had been stolen from him. The life he'd dreamed of having, a wife, a child, a little white house with a simple picket fence and apple trees, it had all been stolen by his father, and by Adam Macks. It had been his father's way of teaching him who was in control, and Mack's way of trying to get rich. Too bad it had backfired on him. He'd never made any money off what he'd managed to steal from him, hell; he probably didn't even realize exactly what he had, until it was gone, if he'd ever caught onto it at all. That was the reason Macks was so bitter, he'd lost his only chance at real wealth, real power, and it had all happened because of his stupidity. Too bad he hadn't gotten any wiser while he'd been sitting in prison. If anything his brain cells had rotted and fallen away, because he was even more of a scatter brained moron by the time Harris had managed to free him.

Jessup Winston should have left the fool in prison, where he could wallow in his own misery for the rest of his life. If he'd been Jesse Nicholas back then, maybe he would have made different choices. Instead, he'd arranged for Harris to set him free, hoping to find the one thing that could give him enough power to pack up his unlawful business for good and return to the life that he yearned for. It might have even liberated his soul from the memories that still haunted him. He'd wanted revenge on Macks more than anything, but he also wanted to put an end to what he'd started ten years earlier. It was all supposed to tie in to form a happy ending for him and the others who had been hurt by his actions all those years earlier. Instead he was more alone now than ever, and the anger was building.

Macks had screwed him over in more ways than one, and his plans for dealing with the ass hole had all been ruined with his death. He had no way of teaching Macks what happened to rats like him, but he sure as hell could find out where the man had hidden his property. His only other hope was the kid, and he wasn't sure whether or not his heart would let him take that next step.

Jessup, no Jesse, shook the thoughts clear of his brain and tried to remember what exactly it was he needed to concentrate on. Oh, yes, James and William, in the rooms down the hall. Hell, he needed to call them and find out what was taking them so long. He wanted to talk to them, and he wanted some answers. He looked at the phone again and decided to give Harris a call. Maybe he could get some information before he confronted the idiots down the hall about their close proximity. This wasn't good.

* * *

Craig was supposed to be washing up so that he could crawl into one of the oversized beds and sleep. Instead he was standing in front of the sink studying the bronze fixtures that matched the elaborate frame encasing the mirror hanging on the wall. He reached out and turned on the hot water and somehow felt in awe at the lack of resistance from the hardware. It turned smoothly, almost as smooth at the water that ran instantly. No pipes rattled and banged and the hot water felt hot immediately, there was no waiting for it reach the right temperature. He found the urge to turn the water back off impossible to fight and had been stuck in the loop of on - off, on – off, for several moments now. The sudden bang on the door caught him off guard and he jumped while he quickly grabbed for the wash cloth that was folded in a fancy triangle, with the corners turned downward. He'd never seen such a sight, wash rags and hand towels displayed on the counter top alongside a wicker basket full of flowery smelling soaps, lotions, flower petals and potpourri, the colors all matching in one way or another.

The door opened and Angel stood in front of him, "You doin' anything in here?" He asked. "You ain't clean yet, are you?"

"Sorry. I was just…" Craig didn't want to admit to playing with the hot and cold taps of the sink.

"It's fancy, ain't it?" Angel grinned. "I know how you feel. The first time I seen a place like this it all seemed like a big waste."

"It is." Craig muttered. His mind tried to picture Angel staying in rooms like this one regularly. At one time he did, when he was running his cons. He'd lived well for a few years before trouble caught up with him. He'd said once that he had to look the part, no matter how much it might cost him.

"But it makes you feel good. You know?" Angel sighed and looked around the large space.

"I guess." Craig looked down at the wash cloth he was holding in his hands. He realized the manner in which it was folded made it resemble a dove. "How do they do this?" He wasn't really asking, but the idea that someone actually took the effort was beyond his young mind. "Why?"

Angle laughed. "Don't worry; it's a regular wash rag. Just find some soap in that basket that don't smell too girlish and wash up. Bobby's getting impatient." Angel held up a t-shirt and sweat pants. "Jerry had these in the back of his car. Don't ask me why, I didn't ask him and I don't think I want to know. He seems to have this thing about always being prepared, so I'm sure he figured he'd have to change his clothes at some point, for some reason."

Craig glanced at the shower stall on the opposite wall. It was completely separate from the bathtub, which ran along the adjacent wall. The clear glass was sparkling clean and the bronze framing and fixtures matched the rest of the decor. "Can I take a shower?" He looked up at Angel, not sure why he wanted to soak under the hot water of that particular shower so badly. The towels hanging near the shower door were nearly big enough to use as blankets though, and the idea of wrapping up in one of them was appealing.

Angel grinned a little wider than before. "Yeah, it's different than home, ain't it? You take a shower. I'll tell Bobby you needed a shower." He waited for Craig to take the shirt and sweat pants before backing out of the room, closing the door closed after him.

Craig knew he needed to hurry, and he did try, but the whole atmosphere of the room seemed to numb his mind of any urgency he might have felt before. He took his time going through the contents of the basket on the counter. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash and regular soap. He snatched up the shampoo and soap, sure that if he gave into the urge to use anything else that Bobby would find out and manage to turn it into a reason to tease him.

He stripped out of the clothes he'd been given by the good Doctor Payne no more than an hour before and stepped into the shower stall. There was no step up like there was with their tub at home. The door swung closed after him with a smooth motion. He wasn't surprised to find the fixtures felt the same as the sink, even and flawless. The water itself felt soft, almost velvety as it soaked into his skin. He was able to lose himself in the warmth of it. He lathered up, then washed his hair and found his muscles loosened as the heat penetrated. It was easy for his brain to turn off and not think about anything at all. Numb wasn't quite how it felt. He'd experienced numb quite often in the past and this wasn't it. This was peaceful and it felt good. Numb was nothing and had no feeling at all.

"Hey, have you been taking lessons from Jack?" Bobby's voice filled the room, barely penetrating the calm that had weaved through the boy's body. "You ain't turning into a sissy, are you little brother?"

Craig didn't bother turning to look through the glass door. He let his nerves absorb the comfort of the shower and did his best to ignore the man. He kept his eyes closed and his face under the comfort flow.

"Come on little sister, you've been in here long enough. We got shit to do and you need to crawl into bed." Bobby opened the door and reached past the teen to turn the water off.

Craig opened his eyes and turned towards Bobby to find one of the blanket sized towels in his hands. "Just five more minutes," He muttered, "Please? Don't you guys still need to talk?"

"You need to be in bed before I walk out the door Craig, now come on." Bobby didn't sound angry. He wrapped the towel around Craig before pulling him out onto the mat just outside of the shower. He grabbed another towel and dropped it over Craig's head, chuckling softly while he turned and picked the sweatpants up off of the counter. "You can dry yourself off, right?" He asked.

Craig sighed and started using both towels to soak the water up off of his skin. The steam in the room swirled around, coating the mirror he'd studied so closely just a few minutes before. He wasn't able to suppress the yawn that escaped him when Bobby handed him the sweatpants to put on. His body was quickly slowing down. The awe that he'd been feeling just a short time before was being replaced by exhaustion. He had slept just a short time before, but he'd been drugged into it, and he wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep. Bobby handed him the t-shirt next and he pulled it over his head. He reached down to pick the towels up, but he swayed slightly on his feet.

Bobby grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the counter. "You okay kid?" He sounded concerned as he stood in front of the boy, studying him closely.

Craig nodded his head slowly and another yawn struggled to work up from his chest. "I'm tired." He muttered.

"Can you stay awake long enough to brush your teeth?" Bobby questioned.

Craig gave his shoulders a shrug. "I guess."

Bobby reached into the basket and pulled out a small, travel sized toothbrush wrapped in plastic. He opened it before pushing it into the boy's hand. He located a mini sized tube of toothpaste and opened it as well. "Here you go."

Craig loaded up the toothbrush and quickly brushed his teeth at the sink with Bobby looking on. As soon as he was finished Bobby took a hold of his arm and pulled him from the restroom.

He hadn't had a chance to look around much when they first arrived at the room. He'd been ushered to the restroom and told to wash up so he could lie down. The room was huge, compared to any hotel rooms Craig had seen, not that he'd seen many. There was a table and two chairs on one wall, a sofa and big, overstuffed chair next to the huge window, and a small bar and refrigerator in a small alcove close to the entry way. There were two beds, and each of them was bigger than his mother's double bed. A spicy scent hung in the air that he hadn't noticed before. Jack was standing at the window with a cigarette between his lips, the smoke wafting out into the cold air just on the thresh hold of the window ledge. Jeremiah was pacing back and forth in front of the little alcove, talking quietly on his cell phone. Angel was sitting on the bed closest to the restroom, talking on the hotel phone, a shit-eaten grin dripping off of his face.

"Come one Baby, you can wait until I call you and then come on down here." Angel spoke in a smooth tone. "I'm tellin' ya, you ain't ever seen a place like this. My room is right next door, and we could have a real good time."

Bobby gave Craig a small push towards the bed on the far wall while he walked over to Angel. He snatched the phone from Angel and held it close enough to hear who was on the other end. "Hey, Sofi, you stay your ass away from this place. I don't care what Angel told you." He refrained from saying anything too smart ass, though it was obviously a struggle for him. He seemed genuinely concerned that she might be in danger if she showed up. He listened for a moment before laughing. "Hey, you just remember that I'm gonna be the best man in your wedding, okay? I don't give a shit what you and Angel do after you're married, but right now you are going to stay the hell away from this place. The last thing we need is some crazy bitch drawing attention to us." He hung up the phone, despite the fact that Angel was reaching for it in an attempt to stop him.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Angel stood and finally managed to snatch the receiver from his brother. "We might need that crazy bitch, you know that, right? She can act better than you think."

Craig sat down on the bed Bobby had directed him to and watched as Bobby stepped closer to Angel, looking up at him as if the fact that he was a head shorter didn't bother him one bit.

"This ain't no fuckin' party. What the hell is wrong with you? This is serious shit." Bobby growled the words. "We ain't here to play romantic comedy. La Vida Loca ain't comin' down here."

Angel shook his head. "I wouldn't bring her here if I thought there was gonna be heavy shit goin' down, I ain't that stupid. But she could come in handy. She's helped us out a few times already; you didn't seem to mind it. And besides, well, hell, the rooms are paid for. After we make contact with Winston we ain't gonna do nothin' but sit and wait, right? We might as well wait with good company." His eyes narrowed pointedly on Bobby.

"After we make contact with Winston, we gotta keep an eye on him." Bobby argued.

"And that's gonna be Jack's job. Winston already knows us. He ain't seen Jack. Jack came up with the idea while you were in there getting the kid out of the shower, he can take food to his door or something." Angel turned and looked at Jack. "Ain't that right?"

Jack looked at Angel and then to Bobby. "I'm the best one to camp out on his doorstep, or get inside, somehow." He gave his head a slight nod as he drew on the cigarette. "Maybe I could play room service or something." He turned to Angel, as if he could sense the fumes igniting inside of Bobby and didn't want to face the anger about to erupt. "Can you get me a uniform from housekeeping, or maybe hotel maintenance?" He purposely diverted his attention away from Bobby and kept eye contact with Angel. "Maybe I could tell him there's something wrong with the thermostat, or something?" It was obvious he was still trying to think of a legitimate excuse to get through Winston's door.

"I might be able to arrange something. I can get you something; just give me a few minutes downstairs." Angel looked back at Bobby who was shaking his head. "What?"

"Jack ain't getting close to him." Bobby still shook his head. "That's too dangerous for him."

"What do you mean it's too dangerous for me? He don't know me Bobby, he's never dealt with me before." Jack's back straightened up. "This is my fight too."

"You're gonna sit here and babysit." Bobby motioned towards Craig and looked his way at the same time. "You lay your ass down, right now." His loud voice startled Craig. The boy lay down on top of the bed covers and suppressed a yawn. He wasn't sure why Bobby sounded angry with him. He hadn't done anything except sit on the bed and listen.

"I'm not gonna sit in this room while you three go take care of shit. It's my fight more than yours." Jack's tone nearly matched Bobby's, something no one was used to hearing.

"No, little brother, you are sitting your ass in this room while we go knock on that bastard's door." Bobby's throat seemed to spasm in his attempt to hold in his anger. He didn't like it when one of his brothers argued with him, and he took it harder when it was Jack.

"Yeah, he's stayin' here for that. But afterwards, we need to know what moves Winston is making. Jack is the best one to find out." Angel's own voice was still stiff, but he seemed to be calming down. Perhaps an understanding was filtering through.

Craig's eyes closed against his will. The insides of his eyes felt like sandpaper, and tears started to work up, practically sealing his eyes in sleep. It happened instantly, his mind barely registering the fact that someone was covering him with blankets. He could still hear his brothers talking, but his mind wasn't processing the words. He felt content just listening to the familiar sounds of his brothers arguing. The hot shower had relaxed him and now the knowledge that his brothers were surrounding him was all he needed to lose the battle he was waging deep inside with exhaustion. Part of it was obviously still the effects of what ever had been injected into him to sedate him, but another part of it was the blanket of security that seemed to envelope him in the presence of his brothers.

His mind slipped back into the same dreams he'd fallen into before. Blue bunnies, his mother, and the stranger that was familiar to him.

* * *

Bobby felt Craig's forehead and then turned and looked at Jack. "Look, we ain't gonna have to watch Winston that close. As soon as we talk to him, we'll know what we need to do. Until then, we ain't plannin' on putting you nowhere close to him." He kept his voice quiet, but that didn't mask irritation he was feeling. He wasn't about to let either of his little brothers be thrust into a situation that was dangerous. Not again. This was supposed to put an end to any of them being hurt or their lives being in turmoil, it wasn't an opportunity for any of them to jump right into the middle of a blazing fire.

Bobby Mercer was tired of running into road blocks at every fucking turn of his life and letting Jack make any kind of contact with Jessup Winston would just result in another road block. They were gonna play this one out to the end, but they were gonna play it right. They couldn't afford mistakes, not now. "Right now, someone needs to call Green and let him know where we are and what we're doin'. If anyone is gonna make contact with Winston, we need to be sure Green is aware of it. I think the last thing he needs is a surprise from us."

Jeremiah hung up his phone. "I was just talking to Johnson. They can hold all three for a few hours for questioning, but that's about all we got. Harris is already making phone calls, flashing around his FBI shit." He stepped over to where Bobby and Angel had grouped around Jack in front of the window.

"Okay." Bobby nodded his head. "So who's gonna go with me to talk to Winston?" He looked at Angel and then Jeremiah.

"I'll go." Angel nodded his head. "I got this all worked out."

"I'm going." Jerry held a hand up as if he wanted to stop Angel. "The two of you don't reason too well when you're together."

"I reason just fine." Bobby snapped.

"I used to make a good living 'reasoning' with people." Angle gave Jeremiah a sideways glance. "What the hell do you think it takes to run a good scam?"

Jack cleared his throat. "He's right. He needs to be there. Winston can read a good scam, he's runs them himself, right? He's gonna be able to read you Angel, and hell Bobby it ain't like you were ever a poster boy for the Boy Scouts. He can't read Jerry, hell; no one can tell what he's thinking most of the time." He looked at Jeremiah and took a deep draw off of his cigarette. "Jerry's the honest one, even Winston knows that, and he's gonna believe whatever he says. He has to go with you. Angel needs to find me something to wear so I can get through Winston's door."

Bobby felt the tension take hold of his forehead and knew he was scowling, despite the fact that he was trying not to. "That really makes a lot of fucking sense, Jack." He couldn't hold his sarcasm back. "What, I'm not honest?"

"Nothing personal," Jack muttered quietly and turned to the window to flick what was left of his cigarette out into the cold air.

"Nothing personal," Angel mimicked Bobby's nasally impersonation of Jack. "Hell, we've done a hell of a lot more of this shit than you have, I think we have this covered."

"Yeah, well maybe that explains a hell of a lot." Jack muttered without raising his gaze to meet Angel's. He let out an heavy sigh. "Look, all three of you go if you want, but Jerry needs to be there. Winston will gage the whole fucking story you're gonna feed him by Jerry's reaction, not yours." He finally looked at Bobby. "And no matter what, we still need someone inside his room so we know what move he makes next. That only leaves me, like it or not, and Angel needs to get me a maintenance uniform so I can at least look the part, so he needs to go work on the uniform shit."

Jack was right. Bobby knew Jack was right. He felt pissed that his little brother was out-thinking him at the moment, but an inkling of pride prickled at the base of his skull at the same time. "Don't go thinking you can tell us what the fuck to do Jack." He nearly choked on the words. "You babysit the kid and we'll keep this little meeting short and sweet. If we ain't back in less than 30 minutes you pack your little brother up and get the hell out of here." He rambled on so that no one would have the chance to question how easily he gave into Jack's reasoning. "Come on Jerry, let's go. Angel, go get a fucking uniform and try to be back here before us?"

Bobby turned and stalked towards the door, leaving his three brothers staring at each other, looking confused that he'd given in so quickly. "Well let's move it girls, we ain't got all fucking night. Angel, where's the piece you went after?" He called out as he reached the door.

Angel turned and followed Bobby after a moment's hesitation. "Here," He reached in under his coat, towards his back and drew out the gun Bobby was referring to. "It's loaded, and the safety's on." He informed as Bobby snatched the weapon away.

"Okay, let's move." Bobby lifted his shirt and stuffed the gun in his belt where it would be hidden until he needed it.

Jeremiah sighed and followed Bobby and Angel to the door. The three of them left Jack standing next to the window with Bobby calling out one last instruction for his little brother. "Lock the fucking door behind us Jack!"

Bobby stood in the hall with Jeremiah next to him until he heard the lock slide into place. Angel headed towards the elevator while Bobby and Jeremiah made their way in the opposite direction down the hall. It was time to confront Jessup Winston with as convincing a story as they could about having what he was after. Either the tables were going to turn in their favor, or they were about to destroy their family for good.


	26. Chapter 26

Thanks to all of you who reviewed :) You guys are too good to me! Thanks to all for reading and I hope you like. Let me know what you think.

Do not own, make no money.

* * *

**Chapter 26: Confrontation**

Bobby stared at the door for a long moment before Jeremiah gave him a hard nudge. "You gonna do this or not?" His younger brother hissed.

Bobby grinned and reached for his gun. He wasn't sure what was going to be waiting for him behind the door, so it was best to be ready. He checked the safety, taking the second needed to slide it off. He didn't bother to put the gun back into hiding before reaching up with his free hand and banging on the door hard. He side stepped to his left and Jeremiah stepped back to the right so that neither of them would be directly in front of the door.

That was where they both stood in silence. The hall was deserted, thankfully. Bobby reached out after what felt like a full minute and banged again. He wanted to call out some kind of threat to the ass hole on the other side of the door, but he didn't want to take a chance on Winston recognizing him before they managed to get in the door.

Bobby was about to hit on the door a third time when he was sure he heard movement on the other side. He gave Jeremiah a quick nod to let him know it was about to start and Jeremiah returned the action in kind to let him know he understood and agreed. Bobby was sure he could see a spark of excitement behind his brother's eyes. No matter what Jerry said, hell, the man loved the rush of this kind of business. How could he not like it? It got your heart racing, made you feel alive and like you mattered.

Bobby could remember the first time he roughed up some drug dealers for their money. It made him feel important, like he was someone to look up to. That's what he'd worried about more than anything else when he was a younger, being someone that other people, especially his brothers, could look up to. That was one thing he loved about hockey. People looked up to him and chanted his name whenever he managed to draw blood on the ice. That was a rush too, but in a different way. That didn't have any risk to it, not like standing in a hallway waiting for someone to open a door so that you could try to bluff your way out of whatever trouble they were trying to rain down on you.

The polished wood of the door seemed to tremble slightly under the pressure of being pulled open. Bobby fought off the urge to grin as he slid his gun up and pressed it into the nose of the person greeting them. "Hello Winston." He recognized the nose before the rest of the face was visible past the door jam. "You look pretty fucking healthy for a dead man."

Jessup Winston froze in his place, silent as he flicked his eyes around towards Bobby, "Mercer." His voice wasn't weak, but quiet. "You look good yourself, considering you've just signed your own death warrant." His eyes narrowed on Bobby, the threat obviously heartfelt.

"Oh, I doubt that Winston. Step back inside there and let's take this conversation someplace a little more private." Bobby pulled the gun back enough to wave it towards the suite behind Jessup Winston.

Winston held both hands up slightly at each side and stepped backwards. Bobby slide inside, not allowing Winston the distance that it might take for him to make any kind of threatening move; he felt Jeremiah match his move just inches behind him. He kept his grin in place until he heard Jeremiah close the door securely behind them. He was sure Jerry was eyeballing Winston, and took the moment to glance around the fancy setting.

Bobby let out a low whistle and shook his head. "Damn, dead men sure live the good life, don't they Jerr'?" He looked at black leather sofa and chairs arranged in the center of what the room, sparkling glass and silver tables and shelves blended into the black and silver tile, all polished and fine. "Hell, I thought your last place was nice, look at this." Bobby pointed to one of the stands holding an ivory carving of a naked woman and let out a hearty laugh at the sight.

Winston stepped backwards to the sofa and eased himself down into it. "Bobby Mercer." He sounded irritated, but was obviously trying to hide it. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"What?" Bobby pulled his eyes away from the statue and looked at Winston. He had to laugh again at the sight in front of him. If he didn't know better he would have sworn the man was wearing the same black, silk robe that he'd been wearing the night the Mercers had been chasing down Macks, who had managed to get his hands on Craig. It was the night Bobby had busted Winston in the mouth instead of putting a bullet in his brain. "You ain't glad to see me? Oh, hell, I won't kick you in the teeth again. I'm sure it cost you a pretty penny to get them fixed." He eyed the man's front teeth, remembering how they had spilled from his mouth before. Winston had a good dentist, the fake teeth looked good. He wondered if Harris had the same dentist.

Winston sighed and shook his head. "If you wanted to talk, you could have called." He remarked.

"Called? How the hell were we supposed to call a dead man, Winston?" Jerry spoke before Bobby had the chance.

"Obviously I'm not dead." Winston's tone was even, but Bobby was sure he could sense caution behind the words. Winston kept his gaze fixed on something on the other side of the room. He wasn't looking at Bobby or Jeremiah. The man hadn't expected this kind of confrontation, Bobby was sure it had thrown him off balance mentally, but he thought avoiding eye contact would hide the apprehension rising inside of him. It wasn't working, Bobby could see the muscles in Winston's throat flexing nervously.

"No, you ain't dead. You're alive enough to fuck around with my family. What the hell, did you really think you could sick Harris on us, rip apart my family again, and that I'd just stand back and let you?" Bobby stood over the man, his gun still aimed at his head. The words felt tight as they sliced against his throat with each syllable. He tried not to yell them, he even tried to keep them clean of the anger and hate that was quickly raising bile in his gut, but it was a losing battle. "You didn't think I'd figure it out? It was pretty easy really."

"No one is trying to rip apart your family." Winston sounded sincere. Bobby searched his eyes for a sign that the man was trying to spread more shit, but couldn't see it, not at that moment. It didn't matter though; he wasn't going to believe the son of a bitch, no matter what he said.

"Oh really, so having Jack thrown in jail and having two men claiming to be from Children's Services drag Craig off, that was all Harris' idea, huh?" Jerry's voice matched Winston's, calm and cool.

"You really thought playing that kind of game with us was gonna get you what you wanted?" Bobby didn't give Winston a chance to respond. "You know, if you wanted your little package, you could have just called us." He mimicked Winston's earlier remark. "Now, all you've managed to do is piss me off. You really think I'd hand anything over to you now?" He shook his head.

Winston's head snapped around to face Bobby after just enough time for the remark to sink in. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. You really think that I'd hand it over to you now, after you've pissed me off? You played games with my little brothers you son of a bitch. Didn't we have enough of an understanding that you could have come to me and told me what you were after?" Bobby swallowed back at the bile working up his throat.

Winston turned and looked at Jeremiah, as if he knew reasoning with Bobby was a lost cause. "About men from Children's Services, what did they do?" He looked confused.

"What did they do? They did exactly what you told them to do, you ass hole!" Bobby felt his gun hand twitch enough that it clipped the side of Winston's head. "They took Craig off to where no one else would know where to find him and they scared the shit out of him. He's a fourteen year old kid, you son of a bitch and you just had to play fucking games with his head, didn't you?"

Winston fell back against the leather supporting him and reached up to feel for any signs of blood from the slight tap Bobby had given him. "What the hell, man, watch how you wave that thing around." He winced and finally looked back up to Bobby. "I never told my men to do any such thing." He shook his head. "Put the gun down Bobby, let's talk."

Bobby grinned, but there was anger behind it. He wondered if it looked more like the snarl he was so proud to display, "You're a lyin' son of a bitch."

"What about Jack being arrested? You didn't have anything to do with that either, right?" Jeremiah crossed his arms at his chest.

Winston glanced up at Bobby's gun before turning back to Jeremiah. "Look, I knew Harris was going to get Jack thrown behind bars, but it's not going to stick. If I'd thought there was any chance that anyone would take the charges seriously, then I never would have let him push it. It was just a chance to get your attention on other things for a while. I needed the time."

"You needed the time for what, to break into our house to look for your little package?" Bobby chose his words carefully. "Because it ain't at the house, I'm not that stupid. You really think I'm that stupid?" He was sure he could see a hint of anger flash across Winston's face. The man was lying to him through his teeth, he could see it. He had every intention of Jack doing time for Macks' death, and he knew every move his men had made since they'd hit town. This had been his plan, not Harris', and he was pissed that it had been found out. He wasn't the coward he played at being before, and he wasn't the ignorant fool he was trying to play now. He was very cunning. He was what Adam Macks could have been if the man hadn't been a total mental case.

Bobby felt a shiver run down his back as he realized he had just declared war on a very cunning, manipulative bastard. He was afraid for just a second that Winston wasn't going to fall for his bullshit story.

"You have the key, but you don't know where to use it, do you Mercer? " Winston kept his eyes fixed on Jeremiah as he spoke; his voice was void of any emotion. "You have no idea what that key opens, do you?"

Bobby held his grin, doing his best not to look relieved. "Maybe I do. I don't understand how you managed to hide it like you did. Why don't you explain that one to me?"

Winston sighed and shook his head. "You telling me it was still in that damn rabbit?" He looked amused.

Bobby's mind struggled to keep up with Winston's words. What the hell was he talking about now, a rabbit? Concealing his confusion was a challenge, but Bobby dealt with that particular task the only way he knew how. His free hand swung around and smacked Winston hard in the back of the head. "Where the hell else did you think it would be? You were coming after it; you had to know where it was." He used the best street voice he could muster up. "So what the hell, you want to deal or not?"

"Was the paper with the key?" Winston questioned quietly, obviously stewing over the smack he'd just received.

Bobby tried to read the man's face. Was this a test? What this Winston's way of finding out if they were bluffing? He smiled wide and shook his head. "What paper?" He kept his voice gruff and quiet, twisting the tone of it around, sounding sarcastic in an attempt to mask his complete ignorance as to what the man was talking about. He hoped it would get more information, that Jessup Winston would slip up and give more details.

Winston laughed and looked up at Bobby once more. "I take it you can't make heads or tails out of it then." He nodded his head. "So what you have isn't worth shit if you can't use it. You hand it over to me and I'll disappear for good Bobby, that's a promise."

"I don't buy it. You ain't gonna just go away Winston; roaches just don't disappear that easy. I want some sort of insurance that you won't mess with me or mine again." Bobby sucked in a deep breath. "But I don't want you fucking shit sitting in my lap either. The last thing I need is for my family to be connected to your dirty dealings in any way. We can't afford it. You have to understand one thing about me, the most important thing is my family and you have become a danger to that."

"If you kill me, you are going to have a shit-load of trouble coming your way." Winston's voice took on a threatening undertone, despite the overly pleasant smile he'd plastered across his face. "You don't want that Mercer."

Jeremiah had wondered off on his own during the short discussion, and was standing at a table next to the door leading to a bedroom. He picked up a framed picture and turned towards Winston. "So what does your Mama think about your choice in careers? I'll bet she's real proud that her boy grew up to be such a bad ass thug. Hell, you're real good at pickin' on little kids. Were you a bully when you were younger?" He grinned and held the picture of Winston and an older woman. "This is your Mama, right?"

Winston looked over at Jeremiah and the picture. Bobby was impressed how Jerry seemed to have found Winston's weakness. He could see a change in the man's eyes when they focused on the photo in Jerry's hand, and he could hear an edge to his voice when he spoke. "My mother has nothing to do with any of this." The words were quiet, but held the intensity Bobby would have expected from a truly devoted son. The same intensity he'd used over the years when he was determined to keep his own mother out of the wrong side of his own business dealings.

"We want this to end Winston, what about you? Are you willing to call off your FBI bitch and get on with life?" Bobby asked quickly, picking this moment of apparent weakness.

"I want that key Bobby." Winston kept his eyes fixed to the photo until Jeremiah returned it to the spot where he'd found it. He finally looked back up at Bobby. "You bring me the key, and the code, and we'll deal then." He kept all emotion out of his voice.

Bobby reached down with his free hand to swipe at the expensive knick-knacks, effectively clearing off enough space for him to place his ass on the glass top. He positioned himself directly in front of Jessup Winston and grinned. "I make the rules from now on, or you ain't getting shit."

Winston didn't look scared, he looked pissed. He sucked in a deep breath and shifted his gaze from Bobby to the gun still aimed at his head. "Okay, what do you want, exactly?"

"Harris needs to back off. He needs to leave Jack alone, and he needs to back off from the rest of my family." Bobby waggled the gun slightly. "Your goons need to leave town too. Send them back to where ever they came from."

Winston nodded his head. "That's a given, since they've screwed up. They'll be out of town by morning."

Bobby tried to see a sign in Winston's body language, or the tone of his voice that he was layin' out bullshit for him right now. He couldn't tell at the moment. "And Harris backs off of Jack? I want Jack to walk away from court a free man with no chance of being charged with Macks' death again."

"I want that key. You hand over the key and I'll guarantee your brother will walk away from this a free man." Winston's voice sounded strained.

"No, Jack walks first, and then we give you what you want." Jeremiah stepped up to stand behind Bobby. "We'll make contact with you after Jack's hearing, when he walks, we'll set up a meeting then." He spoke before Bobby had a chance to think of a response.

Bobby still needed to do some digging to try to figure out where the hell this fucking key was that was so important to Winston, and Jeremiah was closing the negotiations down too soon. "I need insurance that once we walk out of here you ain't gonna come gunning for us." Bobby spoke quickly.

"Why would I be stupid enough to come after you when you have what I want?" Winston was obviously at the end of his patience. "I'm no fool Mercer." He met Bobby's glare straight on.

"You already tried it Winston. Hell, you've done let Harris steal two of my brothers. He tried to make it all look legal and all, but it wasn't. We both know that. How am I supposed to know that you won't do it again?" Bobby leaned in closer to the man, his voice tense as he argued the facts. "Fair warning Winston, you done fucked with my family more times than I ever should have let you, it ain't gonna happen again." He nodded his head slowly. "Here's a news flash for you. The cops are holding Harris right now. I'm sure that as soon as he's able to he'll give you a phone call. I'm gonna call my friends at the station and tell them Harris needs to sit tight until our little deal is done. You need to tell Harris to stay right where he is until he hears from you and to not cause any problems. He's my insurance. Got that? He leaves that police station and our deal is off. I'll know the second he walks out the fucking door. Our deal isn't on until I know Harris is holding tight with the cops."

"There's no way am I going for that." Winston cried out.

"What happened to me having what the hell you want? Huh? You want your shit; you gotta dance my dance, ass hole." Bobby nearly growled the words. "Either that or we can forget this little deal and take your key and piece of paper to the cops instead of handing them over to you. They can figure out that paper, can't they Winston?"

Winston's eyes mirrored the defeat he was trying to mask. "I'm not going to screw you over Mercer."

Bobby shook his head slowly. "I should have put a bullet in your head the first time I laid eyes on you Winston. I should have ended it all right then. We wouldn't have had all this shit coming down on us if I had, would we? You're the fucker who started it this time. I don't get it, I really don't. Wasn't my fucking boot in your mouth enough the first time?" He stood and pushed the barrel of the gun into the center of Winston's forehead with one swift motion. "I'm sick of my family scratching and clawing and only getting kicked back down Winston. Why is it so much to ask that fuckers like you leave us the hell alone? Why did you have to pick my brothers to fuck with? Huh?" His brain was still trying to figure out where Winston's cursed key was hidden.

Winston's muscles stiffened at the touch of the gun against his skin. "Things just turned out that way." He kept his voice quiet. "You can't tell me you would have just handed it over if I'd called you and asked for it." His eyes were focused on the gun.

"If it was a choice between my family and your fucking key, you really think I would have risked my family? Didn't you learn anything about me the first time we met? You should've been straight with me Winston; it would have been much easier for both of us in the long run. Now, there ain't no trust between us, so I need my insurance policy. Harris. Make your decision now, because without my insurance, I got only one other option." Bobby purposely cocked the action of the gun and narrowed his gaze on Winston's eyes. "I won't risk my family again you son of a bitch." He gritted his teeth as he spoke.

Winston sucked in hard. He seemed to be considering his options, and Bobby hadn't left him with too many to think on, so the process was quick. "Okay. Harris stays with the cops." He breathed the words quietly.

"Now that wasn't so fucking hard was it?" Jeremiah laughed.

"But I need to be able to contact you." Winston kept his eyes focused on the gun still pressed against his forehead.

"No, I'll contact you." Bobby grinned and eased the gun away from Winston's forehead. "As soon as I've heard from my friends down at the precinct you'll hear from me." He backed away from Winston slowly. He wanted to know more. He needed more information, but if he pushed too hard Winston would figure out he was being fucked over. Hell, he didn't have what the man wanted, and he was still at a loss to where to find it. He looked at Jeremiah, almost hoping he'd see an answer written across his brother's face.

Jeremiah met Bobby's gaze and nodded his head. He wore half a smile and looked pleased with the answers they'd gotten out of Jessup Winston.

Bobby looked back to Winston. "I'll be calling you as soon as I hear from Green." He motioned for Jeremiah move towards the door. "No tricks Winston or neither of us will get what we want." He waited until Jeremiah had the door opened before backing towards it, keeping his gun visible until he was in the hall and the door was closed.

Bobby looked at Jeremiah and quickly eased off the hammer of the gun before hitting the safety and sliding it into his belt. "Well?"

"I think it went pretty damn good. What do you think?" Jeremiah matched Bobby's stride as they walked down the hall, towards the room where they'd left Jack and Craig.

"Well, we know he's after a key and some kind of paper with a code." Bobby muttered. "Whatever the fuck that is."

"What the hell did he mean by a rabbit?" Jeremiah asked the question that was nagging at Bobby's brain

"I don't know; I was hoping you knew." Bobby shook his head as they turned a corner in the hall, nearly colliding with Angel.

"You get what you went after?" Bobby asked as all three men came to a stop.

Angel held up a plastic bag. "Not exactly, but we can work around it." He looked nervous.

"What?" Bobby motioned for them to keep walking. They could see their door halfway down the corridor. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong." Angel was lying, Bobby could hear it in his voice, but he didn't have the chance to push it when Angel asked his own question. "What did you get from Winston, anything?"

"Oh, we got something." Jeremiah quickly answered Angel's question, detailing what Winston had told them and the direction their plans had taken.

Bobby reached the door ahead of his brothers. "We need to figure out where this fucking key is. That means we need to go to the house." He muttered as his words gave away his thoughts.

"You think it's at the house?" Angel asked.

"It can't be any place else." Jeremiah agreed. "We just gotta think, man, it's gotta be something simple, a fucking key and a piece of paper."

Bobby knew Jeremiah was right. "So one of us goes back to the house and looks around for a damn rabbit." He muttered. He couldn't believe Winston hadn't given them any more than that to work with. He did know for certain that they had to find Winston's key real fucking quick or their entire plan was useless. "We gotta figure this all out by morning." He spoke quietly, "Or we're all screwed."

Jeremiah and Angel both looked at him, and though neither spoke, it was obvious they knew he was right.


	27. Chapter 27

Thanks to all for reading :) As always, let me know what you think!

Still don't own, still make no money.

* * *

**Chapter 27: That Damn Rabbit**

Jack stood in front of the television, the remote control in his hand. He turned as soon as the door opened and gave the remote a toss onto the empty bed, abandoning program he'd been watching. "What happened?" He asked.

Bobby followed Angel into the room, leaving Jeremiah to close and lock the door. "What's changed Angel? What do we have to work around?" He ignored Jack's question and watched as Angel put the plastic bag down on the bed next to the television remote. "You got a uniform in that bag?"

"Yeah, I got a uniform." Angel nodded his head, but there was hesitation in his voice.

Jack picked up the bag and pulled out the red uniform, though from a glance it didn't look like a full uniform, just a shirt. "This is a maintenance uniform?" He looked confused as he unfolded the small blouse and then the skirt.

"Not exactly," Angel spoke quickly, reaching for the uniform, trying to snatch it up before Jack could hold it up.

Jack stepped back and held the skirt up. "Hell no," He looked at Angel.

"I couldn't get the maintenance uniform. I had to snatch the only thing I could." Angel reached again, grabbing the uniform and giving it a yank.

Jack let go of the red blouse and skirt. "So you plan or wearing that?" He asked quickly. "Because no matter how much Bobby jokes around I am not gay."

"No, I'm not planning on wearing it; it wouldn't fit me, or you." Angel cried out. "But it should fit Sofi…" He started to reason.

Bobby didn't give him a chance to finish. "I already said no to Sofi being involved with this Angel. Don't you listen to shit?" He felt irritated. Now was not the time to be arguing with his brother about his woman.

"We ain't got a choice Bobby. I already called her and she's on her way. I figure this way no one goes into that room alone. She can go in with Jack, they can watch out for each other." Angel turned to face Bobby. "I couldn't get anything else, man, I tried."

Bobby groaned inwardly. "Hell no," He closed his eyes and tried to breath. "So you're gonna bring her down here and put her ass right in the line of fire with the rest of us?" He dropped down on the bed and tried to absorb the information.

Angel sat down next to him. "You're worried about her." He seemed surprised.

"I'm not worried about her. I just can't deal with that crazy bitch right now. I got too much to deal with. We all have too much to deal with." Bobby opened his eyes and looked at Angel, who was smiling back at him.

"You are, you're worried about her bein' here and getting hurt." Angel looked pleased. "Man, that's cool. I know how you feel. I worry too, but she can take care of herself. She can do this, I swear she can."

Bobby felt his nerves snapping like one of Jack's guitar strings pulled too tight. "The only thing I'm worried about is her mouth running nonstop and driving me fucking crazy." He argued. His brothers were not going to catch him showing any valid concern for Sofi's safety; that shit wasn't going to happen, not now.

Angel just held the grin steady on his face, stood and tossed the uniform onto the bed. "She can handle it Bobby. Trust me, there's shit you don't know about Sofi. She can handle this, easy."

Bobby felt as if he was pounding his head against a brick wall. He wasn't going to win this one and it was getting pretty irritating just how many of his decisions had been vetoed recently. He turned to Jack. "You sure you want to do this?" He asked quietly, leaving Angel to mumble his gloating to the air.

Jack drew in a deep breath. "I'm not going to look much like a maintenance man." He held his arms up to display his black t-shirt, ripped jeans and leather coat.

"You got some keys?" Bobby asked quickly, pulling off his own jacket.

"Yeah, but…" Jack watched as Bobby grabbed his sweat shirt and pealed it over his head. He stared at the blue mechanic's uniform shirt Bobby had picked up at the thrift store a few years before. It was one of Bobby's favorite shirts, with the name 'Raul' displayed proudly on the right side. Bobby didn't know who the hell Raul was, but his shirt had helped him screw around with a lot of people's heads.

Bobby started to unbutton the shirt and looked at Jack. "You keep the t-shirt on, and put this on over it. Not exactly maintenance, but its working class. People like Winston usually can't tell the fucking difference." He looked at the canvas bag Jerry had hauled up from the car so that Craig had some clothes to change into. "You got anything else in there?" He turned to Jerry.

Jeremiah nodded his head. "Socks, a spare pair of boots; I don't know what all Camille put in there." He frowned as he spoke his wife's name. "Shit, I need to call Camille." He grabbed for his phone in his pocket and turned away from his brothers.

Bobby dug though the bag, pulling out a pair of work gloves, a baseball cap, a screwdriver and a hammer. He couldn't help but laugh at the collection inside the bag. "Shit, looks like something a handy man would wear." He held the hammer up for Jack to see. "Come here princess, let's get you dressed." He grinned.

With in minutes Jack had stripped out of his coat and was wearing Bobby's shirt, though it wasn't quite long enough to reach the waist of his jeans. His hair was stuffed under the hat and he had the gloves hung out of one back pocket, the screwdriver poked up out of the other. Bobby clipped his and Angel's keys together and hooked them on one of Jack's belt loops. With the hammer in his hand he almost looked like he could go to work on one of Jeremiah's crews.

"Okay, Angel, you need to go to the house and look around for a rabbit." Bobby turned and looked at Angel.

Angle was trying to hide a grin, but it wasn't working. "No way man, I'm staying here. If there's any trouble I'm going to do more for you than Jerry." He cocked a thumb towards Jeremiah who was 'cooing' into his phone, obviously attempting to keep Camille from exploding on the other end of the line.

Bobby sighed and nodded his head. "Okay, Jerry, you go look for the rabbit." He spoke a little louder.

Jeremiah turned and looked at Bobby. "Okay, Camille, baby, I'm gonna have to call you back." He spoke quietly and turned away again. "I do love you Baby, but now is not a good time to try to talk about this. I know. I'm sorry. I'm the one to blame, I know. It's all, my fault." There was a pause in his words, but only briefly, "Okay, it's all Bobby's fault." He looked defeated. "I love you Camille, but if we are going to have a chance to work this out I gotta go." He hung up the phone quickly and looked as if he'd been kicked hard in the gut.

"You gonna be okay?" Jack asked Jeremiah before anything else could be said.

"Yeah, man, I'm fine. I told her it was Bobby's fault." Jeremiah looked at Bobby. "That usually buys me a little time."

Bobby bit back at any remarks. He could take the blame for the time being. He blamed himself anyway, and if it helped get Jeremiah out of the doghouse with his wife he was willing to make the sacrifice. He'd get Jerry back later, when he really needed something. It was a guilt trip stored for later use. He decided to get on with their business. "You need to go to the house and look for a fucking rabbit." He spoke quickly while Jeremiah was still looking his way.

"Why do I have to look? I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to be looking for." Jeremiah cried out.

Craig stirred slightly in the bed on the other side of the room.

Jack glanced back at Craig before voicing his confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?" He turned back to his older brothers.

Bobby and Jeremiah quickly filled Jack in on what little Winston had told them. All four of them somehow found themselves sitting on the bed, lined up in a neat row, leaning in towards each other and instinctively keeping their voices down to whispers.

"A rabbit," Jack muttered when it seemed Bobby and Jeremiah had finished talking. "What, a figurine, a picture of a rabbit, what are we looking for?"

"I don't know Jack. If we knew do you think we'd be sitting here debating the fucking rabbit?" Bobby snapped the words, his voice short and gruff.

Jeremiah's head nodded in Craig's direction. "It had to be something that Craig knows about." He commented. "We do know that much."

"He's asleep." Bobby muttered, but he looked over towards the boy. "And he didn't know shit before, what makes you think he'll know anything now?"

"We didn't know about any fucking rabbit before. We need to wake his ass up and ask him." Angel looked at Bobby.

"He's barely been asleep an hour." Jack muttered.

Bobby kept his gaze on the bed. "He didn't have any idea of what Winston was looking for. He doesn't know shit about what's going on." He was talking more to himself than his brothers. He was trying to convince himself that he was right. Twelve hours earlier he had busted the kid lying to him and sneaking around behind his back. What if Craig did know more and was lying to them? He didn't want to believe that but right then he just wasn't sure. Maybe he didn't know the kid as well as he thought he did. He found himself struggling with his own instincts towards the kid. Hell, for seven years he'd kept a wall up between him and the boy and now, just as he was getting to know him he found himself questioning what he was feeling.

"Bobby, Winston was convinced that Macks could get something from Craig. He must know about a rabbit. It can't hurt to ask him." Jack spoke quietly. "I'll bet he doesn't even realize he knows."

Bobby could feel his brain aching from the effort it took him to process all of the information that had been slung at him from every direction the entire day. Facts clicked off mentally while he stared at Craig. Winston was after some kind of key that he was sure Craig had. It had been hidden in a rabbit. Winston was sure Macks had gotten whatever information he could from Craig. He'd let Harris scare the shit out of his brother to get his hands on the key. Craig insisted he didn't know what Winston was after and that Macks hadn't said anything or tried to get anything from him when he'd been trapped with the man.

Either he was too tired to put the pieces together or there wasn't enough information to make everything fit into place. He wasn't sure which. He stood and stepped to the bed where Craig slept. He could see his brothers leaning towards him as he sat down and rested a hand on each side of Craig's sleeping form. He sucked in a deep breath and lowered his face closer to the boy's. "Hey there sleeping beauty, wake up for me." He spoke normally. "Come on; open your eyes, just for a minute." He used his hands to shake the mattress up and down.

Craig moaned quietly and started to roll away from Bobby.

"Craig, come on, I know you're tired, but I need to ask you a question." Bobby let his voice rise in volume, hoping that would bring the kid out of his sleep.

Craig's feet kicked as if he were frustrated while a frown embedded deeply around his eyes and mouth. "What?" He sounded like a small child.

Bobby knew his brother wasn't all of the way awake, and grasped the opportunity. "Where's the rabbit Craig?"

There was a long silence and then Craig's eyes opened slowly, "In my room." He looked up to meet Bobby's gaze. "Why?" He asked.

Bobby felt his heart stop for a count of two, "What, in your room; where in your room?" He tried to mask the excitement that was trying to build. In his sleep muddled mind Craig had responded with the most honest answer he could and it had taken Bobby Mercer by surprise.

Craig blinked his eyes. "It's mine." He muttered.

Bobby now struggled to keep his heart from racing out of his chest. "Craig, listen to me. We need the rabbit. I'll give it back when we're done with it. I swear you'll get it back."

Craig's eyes seemed to cloud over with doubt and confusion. "It's in my room. Mom gave it to me, it's mine."

Bobby could see confusion starting to etch into the boy's features. "Mom gave it to you?" He remembered not so long ago, when Craig had locked himself away in his room. The small, blue and white stuffed animal he'd been clinging to in his sleep when his brothers had opened the door, it had to be the rabbit Winston was talking about. It was the only animal of any kind Bobby could remember the kid having, ever. He'd come from St. Vincent's with it and had carried it around everywhere he went for a long time. Bobby hadn't been able to find it when Sweet snatched the kid. He'd tried. He hadn't remembered exactly what it was or what it looked like, but Bobby had been sure the kid could use it when they got him back. "Where is it Craig? I'll give it back, I promise, but right now we need it."

Craig seemed to wake up a little more. "But, why do you need it?" He looked worried.

Bobby glanced back at his brothers seated on the other bed before looking at Craig again. He tried to think of a good lie to feed the kid, to keep him from worrying, but nothing popped into his head, an unusual turn since on a normal day lying came easier to him than being truthful. "We think Winston hid something in the rabbit." The truth slid out before he could stop it.

"But, how did he do that?" Craig looked even more confused.]

"I don't know Craig, but he did. Or at least we think he did. We need to check it out. Where is your rabbit?" Bobby pushed, his patience starting to wear thin as his mind seemed cling to the hope that their plan could actually play out in their favor after all.

Craig reached up with his hands and rubbed at his eyes. "In my room," He repeated.

"Where is it in your room?" Bobby grabbed the boy's hands and pulled them away from his face. "Look at me."

Craig looked at Bobby. "Under my mattress or under my floor, I don't remember." He kept his voice quiet.

Bobby looked over at Jeremiah. "You hear that?" He asked.

Jeremiah stood and headed for the door. "I'll call you when I get there." He called without looking back.

Bobby looked back down at Craig. "Okay, you can go back to sleep now." He moved to stand, but Craig grabbed hold of his arm. He eyed the hand for a second before looking at the worry in Craig's eyes. "What?"

"You aren't going to hurt him are you?" Craig asked quietly.

Angel snickered quietly and stood. "Damn thing has a name I'll bet." His amusement evident in his words, "'Fluffy' maybe," He walked into the restroom and pushed the door closed behind him.

Craig's eyes followed Angel's path and waited until the door had closed before speaking quietly. "It's not funny." He sounded hurt and angry at the same time. "It's important."

Bobby sighed. "We ain't gonna hurt it." He pulled his arm free of Craig's grasp. "Now go back to sleep." He stood and walked back to the other bed.

"You promise." Craig demanded.

Bobby turned to look at the teen as he reached the other bed and was surprised to find him struggling to sit up. "I said to go back to sleep." He pointed towards the pillow Craig was lifting away from. How the hell could he make a promise he couldn't keep, and why was Craig so worried about one little stuffed animal?

"Promise you won't hurt him." Craig seemed to be struggling against tears and it occurred to Bobby that this rabbit thing was more than just a stuffed animal to him. He was about to give the boy the empty promise, just to keep him happy for the time being, but Jack stood before he had a chance to speak.

"Craig, we need to look inside of him, but we'll be careful." Jack walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "We have to see if what Winston is looking for is inside of him."

"You're gonna cut him open?" Craig looked horrified, "You can't do that." He was starting to sound more like a five year old than a teenager and it fueled concern as well as irritation deep inside Bobby's chest.

"Look, it's pretty simple, either that damn rabbit is cut open or your family will be split up and ripped apart. What's more important to you?" Bobby knew his words sounded harsh, but if Jack wanted to go the honest route with the kid he was going to take the whole path, not just part of it. "The fucking rabbit can be sewed back together, we can't."

Craig seemed to flinch inside and let his body ease back down into the sheets and blankets he'd been resting so peacefully in just minutes before. He didn't look at Bobby, but it was obvious the words had stung him harder than any smack could have. His eyes were heavy with the sleep he still needed, red and teary; the look on his face was more than familiar. It was one that came and went daily when he hadn't had his pills, the look of a lost child ready to curl into himself to hide from the world. It was the same look Bobby had been struggling to free the kid from, to free his self from, for weeks now. Bobby looked at Jack, as if his younger brother could help him fix the damage he'd apparently caused by that one harsh statement.

Jack seemed to be holding his breath, scowling at Bobby as he looked his way. "Craig," He turned back to the boy who had moved to rest on his right side with his back to them both, "Look, Bobby's right, we can sew the rabbit back up, I promise. I'm pretty good with a needle and thread."

Bobby couldn't stop himself. "That figures."

Jack ingored the dig, at least for the moment. "He'll be as good as new; you won't ever know we've done surgery on him." He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "Come on, it's gonna be okay, I promise; and nothing is going to happen to any of us either, Bobby's just over reacting, you know how he is."

"Like I'd believe you," Craig muttered without looking at either man.

Jack looked back over to Bobby, looking even more pissed than before and maybe a little hurt by Craig's words. The recent events in their lives had put a wall up between Craig and Jack, and they hadn't really had the chance to work through any of the important shit they needed to. There had been police interviews and the insurance business that they all seemed caught up in. There was too much that had been left hanging after Macks' death, things that they'd all thought could be dealt with in time. Other things seemed more important than sitting down and talking about the stuff that should have been priority; like Craig trusting Jack again.

Bobby knew Jack was waiting for him to say something helpful, but he was at a loss. He'd told the kid the truth, but he'd told him wrong, he knew that. Things weren't like before, when their mother was still alive; he couldn't say shit like that and then just forget it. He really was the parent now and he had to stop acting like a big brother when times were stressful. Craig wasn't like his other brothers; he couldn't handle it half of the time. He stood and walked over to the bed about the time the bathroom door opened. He reached down and grabbed hold of Craig, pulling him half way into his lap as he sat down on the bed. "Okay, I'm sorry." He choked the words out. "I didn't say that right." He forced his voice to mimic Jack's calm tone, though his insides were dancing around nervously. "We ain't gonna hurt the rabbit Craig. I can tell it means a lot to you, and we won't do anything that is going to hurt you, I promise."

Craig felt stiff under Bobby's hold. Bobby would have slapped himself in the back of the head at that moment if he could. He was sure he should have tasted shoe leather in his mouth at that moment. He hadn't really talked to Craig about what had happened in the past twenty twelve hours, there hadn't been time. The kid was just as screwed up as the rest of them as far as his emotions and his nerves. There had been a lot of changes in his life recently, and now his brothers were talking about ripping apart a stuffed animal that his mother had given to him, hell, he probably felt as if he was losing his last hold on Evelyn Mercer. Bobby could understand how it could feel like that. His own need to keep his family together mirrored those emotions. Without his family he would lose his only connection to his mother.

"You know, I know how you feel, I really do." Bobby leaned closer to Craig, speaking quietly. "I don't mean to sound pissed at you, I'm not. I'm pissed at all the shit that keeps happening to us."

Craig didn't relax, but his head turned slightly towards Bobby, as if he were paying attention.

"I know how hard it is to give up something that special. When did Mom give you the rabbit?" He really did want to know. Maybe if he knew the story he would understand the attachment better. A voice in the back of his head also added that if he knew the story, maybe he'd be able to figure out how Winston had gotten a key inside his little brother's toy.

"My birthday," Craig's voice came out weak, sounding small.

"Really, she gave it to you for your birthday? Must have been when you turned eight?" He dug deeper, prodding the kid to talk.

Craig's head shook from left to right. "Seven." He answered.

"You turned seven at St. Vincent's." Jack spoke up from where he was still seated next to them on the bed. "Did Mom give you the rabbit at St. Vincent's?"

Craig nodded his head but didn't look at Jack. He didn't seem to be looking at anything.

"Your first birthday," Jack muttered.

Bobby wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but he didn't interrupt, Jack seemed to have knowledge he didn't. He'd find out later what that comment was about.

Craig turned towards Jack, as if he was as surprised by the remark as Bobby. "Yeah," He muttered.

"I remember what you told me about that birthday. I remember everything you told me Craig." Jack seemed to feel the need to explain to the boy. "You had never had a birthday before that. Mom brought you the rabbit then?"

Craig nodded his head. "It wasn't new or anything. I think I'd had one before, one that was a lot like it. My Dad didn't like for me to have toys, so my rabbit was important." He seemed to be thinking about his words as he spoke, and Bobby was sure that he looked as if he were in pain; as if a memory was running through his mind that caused him to wince slightly.

"You had a rabbit before? Did you have it when you got to St. Vincent's?" Jack looked confused. "Did they take it away from you when you got there?" His words reminded Bobby of the unfair rules that were enforced at the children's home. No one got to keep their own clothes or toys if they had any. It all became community property.

"Yeah," Craig spoke weakly, answering Jack's question. "My Mom gave me the rabbit; they didn't have any right to take it."

Angle made a small noise from the other side of the room. He was standing next to the door, looking out the peep hole as if he was waiting for someone; Sofi, obviously, but he was listening to the conversation. "Stupid fucking rule," He muttered.

Bobby looked in Angel's direction, but Jack and Craig seemed locked in their own little world, and didn't seem to notice.

Jack nodded his head. "Do you think that maybe Mom got your first rabbit back for you to make you feel better?"

Craig looked confused by the question. "What?" He asked.

Jack's lips cracked a weak smile. "You were raising hell with everyone, right? You were fighting them all? You had been hurt and you were scared, and I'll bet Mom got your rabbit back for you. Maybe that's why it's so important? It was from your birth mother, and from Mom. That's pretty special, huh?"

Craig never actually answered the question, but he looked as if the idea was rolling around in his thoughts. Bobby felt his own mind falter with the direction Jack was taking the conversation. "Ma gave him the rabbit." He muttered, trying to figure out how Jack had come up with the crazy theory he was presenting.

Jack shook his head slowly and looked at Bobby. "No, Bobby, Craig had the rabbit before. Winston had his hands on it before Craig ever came home with Mom. How else could he have gotten something inside of it?" His voice was quiet. "Think about it. It makes sense."

Bobby shook his head. "You're guessing."

Angel cleared his throat loudly from his post at the door. He glanced back at Bobby and Jack for a split second before pulling the door open. Sofi stepped into the room, her pink coat blinding Bobby before he had a chance to look at the pissy expression she was flashing in his direction. Her mouth opened and the words she'd prepared were spill out, but Angel grabbed hold of her and planted a sloppy kiss over her lips before she could speak. Great, this was just what Bobby Mercer needed to round out his night.


	28. Chapter 28

Sorry it's been so long! I hope you like, please let me know, and thanks to all of you who are still reading :) I will get past this little slump I seem to be in, I promise.

Do not own, make no money.

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**Chapter 28: Intruder**

Craig sat in the bed and watched while Angel held up a uniform for Sofi to criticize. "Well, what do you think?" His grin widened when Sofi reached out and took the skirt in her hands.

"You want me to wear this? You expect me to put this thing on? Do I look like a slut Angel? This thing is two sizes too small for me." Sofi's voice sounded deceptively calm. An undercurrent of her temper boiling deep could be detected by anyone who knew her well enough. Craig had heard it a few times in the past, but it had only been directed at him once, when she found out about the painting on the school. Granted she had calmed down after the first initial shock and had even liked it after she'd given herself a chance to study it a little. It was that first burst of bitchy that caught a person off guard when it came to Sofi.

Angel looked worried right then, as if he hadn't expected this, when it was obvious that he should have known better. Sofi was unpredictable. She might go out and buy a leather mini skirt for herself, but if her man expected her to wear something too revealing she wouldn't take it well. It wasn't as if the skirt Angel had gotten her was really that bad, it was just short, very short, and Sofi was known to wear some revealing clothes at times, but it had to be something she wanted first or it wouldn't go over well with her.

Bobby plopped back down on the bed in between Jack and Craig, obviously amused by the distress Angel had brought down on his self. He elbowed Jack in the ribs and gave his head a nod towards Angel, who seemed to be thinking hard about how he might be able to get back in his woman's good graces. The grin on Bobby's face widened when Angel swallowed hard and stuttered out a few short phrases before his mind kicked in and he was able to actually talk.

"It was the only uniform I could get, Baby, come on. You are the sexiest lady I know. You can make this work, I know you can." Angel held the top half of the uniform out towards Sofi who shook her head quickly.

"I refuse to wear that thing." She looked down at the blue jeans she was wearing and then thrust the skirt hard into Angel's chest while grabbing the blouse quickly. "I can make this work though." She looked thoughtful while she shrugged off her coat and let it fall on the empty bed next to her. "I'll be right back." Still clutching the large bag that hung from her arm, she brushed her way past Angel, into the restroom, and pushed the door closed just short of a slam.

Angel looked disappointed while he held the skirt up. "Damn, this was the best part of the whole get-up."

Bobby started laughing. "That's what you get, little brother. Trying to bullshit me into letting you drag her down here, and then trying to bullshit her into wearing that get-up." He looked over at Jack. "Shit, you might do okay with her in there with you; maybe her crazy shit will is just what we need."

Jack gave Bobby a glare. "I'll do fine with or without Sofi in there." He muttered.

"You know what to do once you're in, right?" Bobby asked.

"I think I can handle it Bobby." Jack stood and moved to the window. "Give me a little credit, will ya?"

"I give you all the credit I can Jackie. But this ain't a fuckin' game." Bobby looked as if he were about to lose his patience.

"Look, he knows, okay? Just leave him be Bobby." Angel took up Jack's defense while he dropped down onto the other bed, facing his brothers. "But Jack, Sofi is gonna do most of the talking." He turned his attention to Jack.

"What do you mean she's gonna do most of the talking?" Jack started to argue. "I think I can manage this Angel. You're as bad as Bobby."

"Don't get all defensive. You have to admit you ain't too great at pulling shit off the top of your head when you're nervous, Jack. You just keep your mouth shut and let her do the talking. She's gonna go in saying she's there to clean and you are checking on the thermostat because there has been some complaints from other guests. You just stand there and act like you're working while she pokes around in the other rooms. She's gonna find a reason to get him out of the room if she can, so you can look through papers or anything that might be laying around that might help us out." Angel turned and looked at Bobby, "We need to get a hold of Green and tell him to let Harris call Winston as soon as you're in the room. Maybe he'll say something that will help us out within earshot of Jack or Sofi."

The three of them fell silent. Jack finally stood and walked over to crack open the window. He dug another cigarette out of his wrinkled pack. His hands were shaking, but just slightly. "How am I supposed to know what to look for if Sofi does get him out of the room?" He kept his eyes downward, focused on his unlit cigarette. Craig though he looked worried, or angry, or maybe a little of both.

"I didn't see anything lyin' around, but Jerry might have, he looked around a little more than I did. We should have asked him before he left." Bobby spoke up. "Call him Angel." He motioned towards the hotel phone.

"I ain't gonna call him on that phone." Angel shook his head. "We don't want any of our numbers coming up on the hotel phone."

Bobby looked confused. "You called Sofi on that phone." He reminded, just as Angel reached the door.

"They won't connect her phone with us; she's using her brother's phone." Angel waded up the skirt and tossed it from one hand to another. "I really need to talk to her. I think she can use this skirt." He spoke quietly as he stood and walked towards the restroom.

The creases deepened across Bobby's forehead. "Why the hell does she use her brother's phone?" He asked just as Angel opened the restroom door.

A long string of swearing pierced the air as Sofi gave Angel what-for, just before slamming the door shut on him. Angel stared at the door for a long moment before turning back to Bobby. "She uses his phone so no one who don't know her can trace phone calls back to her. She's always used her brother's phone." Now Angel looked as if he was in pain.

Bobby laughed at the wounded expression on his brother's face. "You sure are pissing her off little brother, maybe you need to back off a little and let her take care of business."

Angel gave Bobby one of his threatening glares before turning to Jack. "You need to call Jeremiah."

Craig watched and listened while his brothers continued to bicker back and forth about what they needed to do next. Bobby tried to lecture Jack about what was safe to say, and what he shouldn't say, and Jack just rolled his eyes and nodded his head at the appropriate times, obviously just letting Bobby talk so the man could work out his own frustration.

"Bobby, maybe you should lay down there and take a nap? You are too damn cranky." Jack finally muttered while he pulled out his phone. "I'm calling Jerry."

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Jeremiah walked into the front door of what he still considered his mother's home. He flipped on the light in the living room and sighed as he looked at bits and pieces of what was left of the woman's life. It hadn't seemed too bad before. His brothers were all alive and doing as well as could be expected after all that happened. The house had been patched and the bullet holes covered skillfully, but if you looked hard you could tell the place had been shot up just a few weeks earlier. A mental inventory ran through his head as he looked at the shelves his mother had once filled with figurines and candles. More than half of them had been destroyed by bullets. No amount of drywall mud and paint could replace the empty spaces left behind by the missing items. The rest of the items had been displaced by the intrusion earlier that afternoon. The home Evelyn Mercer had left to her sons had been invaded and violated, that was the way it felt. Nothing was going to be the same, without their mother, but to have her home turned upside down and her personal belongings moved by strangers seemed to make it all worse. Sorrow blended with anger tugged on the man's heart as he pushed himself past the living room doorway, up the stairs and into Craig's bedroom.

The clothes that had been hanging on the rack in the corner were now lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. Jeremiah sighed as he stepped past them. The mattress had been moved, but was still mostly in place. Craig had said he'd put the stuffed rabbit under his mattress and Jeremiah prayed it was still there. The suits hadn't trashed Craig's room as bad as the rest of the house, but they had done some damage. He lifted the mattress and found nothing but the box springs. He didn't realize he'd been hoping so hard until his heart fell. He grabbed the foot of the bed and gave it a hard pull towards the dresser. It wasn't heavy, but he put more force behind it than was needed. When he let it drop it hit the floor hard, bouncing slightly. That was when he noticed a tuft of blue bounce from the gap between the wall and the box springs, disappearing from his line of site as it fell silently to the floor. He didn't bother trying to move around the springs, he crawled across them to the head of the bed and reached down to the floor. He grabbed hold without looking and pulled the stuffed animal up into the light of the room. His heart lightened. Maybe things were going to turn around for them all now and they would be able to put all the shit behind them.

Jeremiah was half way down the stairs when his cell phone rang. He'd already taken one call from Jack with a list of messages from Bobby. Bobby had been in the background yelling for him to bring Craig's pills, and for him to call Johnson or Green and tell them what was going on. Bobby had also wanted to know if there was anything worth checking in Winston's room, thinking he may have seen something significant while he was snooping around earlier. Of course he hadn't noticed anything, if he had he would have told Bobby already, but his brother didn't seem to think that was good enough. Jeremiah had spent most of the drive back to the house insisting to Bobby, through Jack, that while his older brother was holding a gun in Winston's face, he'd found nothing more than some old pictures, like the one of Winston's mother that he'd pointed out at the time. Bobby had finally relented and let Jack hang up the phone.

Jeremiah had then made the phone call to Johnson and updated him, passing the word to let Harris call Winston, or Nicolas, whatever the hell his name was. He had explained their plan, what little bit of a plan they'd pieced together so far at least, and that Winston had been instructed to tell Harris to sit tight with the cops. Johnson hadn't been happy to hear what the Mercers were doing, and he was sure that as Johnson was sharing the information with Green, he could hear the Lieutenant in the background groaning out that it was a bad idea. That was okay though, because Jeremiah hadn't been happy to hear that the other two goons, William and James, were at the hospital. He was worried that they might slip away and turn up at the hotel, or call Winston and ruin everything. Johnson assured him that they had police escorts and they were officially under arrest, so they wouldn't be going anywhere. Jeremiah knew he should call Bobby with that bit of news, but he'd gotten to the house and hadn't taken the time to make the call.

Now it seemed Bobby felt the need to check in with him again, because it was Jack's cell phone number the flashed across his phone. He sighed as he headed for the kitchen in search of Craig's pill bottles. He let the phone ring a couple of times before answering it. Maybe if Bobby had to wait a few extra seconds he'd have time to think about how another phone call would delay him just that much longer.

"What now?" He asked the question as soon as he flipped his phone open.

"I need to know what the fuck is taking you so long. Jack and Loco Ono are ready to play their little number on Winston." Bobby announced with impatience that probably had built up in the few extra moments Jeremiah had made him wait.

"I'm on my way. I just gotta grab the kid's pills." Jeremiah set the stuffed toy on the counter top, opened a drawer and pulled out a plastic grocery bag while he held the phone between his chin and his left shoulder. "You don't need me there for them to go in." He opened the cupboard and started pulling out the pill bottles. He checked each label before dropping them into the bag.

"We need you here for this Jerr'." Bobby spoke just as loud as always. "I need to be sure we have enough people here for back up, just in case. Besides, I want to know what's in that rabbit. You did find the rabbit, didn't you?"

"I'm moving as fast as I can." Jeremiah spoke the words slowly. "It's hard to do much when you keep callin' me and giving me more shit to do."

"Oh, yeah, did you get a hold of Green or Johnson? Did you tell them what the hell was going on with Winston and what we were doing? Did you find the fuckin' rabbit?" Bobby's voice rose slightly as he repeated his question about the rabbit.

"Yes, yes, and yes. Look, I'll tell you everything when I get back there, okay?" Jeremiah let the cupboard door slam closed and tied the top of the plastic bag to keep the bottles secure inside. He turned and headed back towards the front door, but remembered the blue stuffed animal that he'd dropped on the counter. He turned back to the kitchen, his line of sight falling on the back door as he snatched the stuffed animal off of the counter. He froze in his spot. Eyes and a face were looking back at him. He was sure they looked familiar, but they were blurred by the glass in the door, and the darkness masked most of the detail. The eyes ducked back into the darkness just as Jeremiah noticed them, and that sent chills down the man's back.

Bobby was still rambling on about something over the phone but Jeremiah didn't hear what he was saying. "Fuck." He dropped the bag, the rabbit and his phone onto the counter while his legs carried him towards the back door. "Fuck!" He cried out again while he fumbled with the lock on the door. Bobby was yelling his name over the phone, but he ignored it.

The ice on the back steps caught Jeremiah off guard, nearly sending him face first into the refrozen ground below. He recovered his footing quick enough and looked around for any signs of the form he'd seen staring at him through the back door glass. He was sure he heard retreating footsteps at the far end of the garage and headed that way, leaving the back door standing wide open since he had no plans of actually chasing anyone very far. He only hoped to catch another glimpse and be able to identify the person.

The icy mist that had descended on Detroit earlier that evening seemed to have cleared away, but if it was possible the temperature had dropped a full twenty degrees. Jeremiah reached up and pulled the collar of his coat around his neck in an attempt to stave off the frigid air. His boots crunched loudly against the crystalline ice beneath them. He reached the end of the garage and peered around the corner, then turned to focus his gaze down the street. There was no sign of anyone, no tracks in the ice crust covering the ground.

The night was quiet and still, as if the entire world had frozen solid; nothing moved despite the wind that still blew past his face. He stood there for a long moment, waiting, but not sure what he was waiting for. Perhaps he'd see movement, or hear ice crunching in the distance to signal the retreat of whoever it was that he'd seen; anything to let him know that someone else was still out there with him. He turned back to the house when his nose started to sting from the onset of numbness, and moved a little slower as he closed the distance between him and the back door.

He used more caution as he ascended the back steps and wished he had his gloves on his hands when he grasped hold of the door knob to open the barrier that separated him from the warmth of the house. That was when he realized, he hadn't closed the door as he'd ran out.

Jeremiah peered through the glass of the back door, but there was no sign of the intruder. He turned the knob slowly and eased his body into the warmth that had always felt like home. He stood in silence for half a second before Bobby's warped voice cut the air. He remembered his brother had been on the other end of his phone when he'd seen the ghost of a face through the door. He also remembered that he'd left the house with no explanation to his brother. He knew Bobby's imagination, and the man was probably thinking the worst had happened. Although he would have preferred to avoid trying to explain to Bobby what he'd seen right then, he took the few steps to the counter and picked up his phone. "Bobby, stop yelling." He spoke quickly.

"I ain't yellin'. What the fuck just happened?" Bobby was yelling, despite his denial.

"I thought I seen someone outside the back door. Apparently I didn't." Jeremiah tried to sound convincing. The last thing he needed was for Bobby to get paranoid; it was obvious he was already paranoid enough for the both of them. "I guess my nerves are worked up, that's all. I just imagined the whole thing." There was quiet on the other end of the phone, but not for long.

"So who did you see? Harris? Was it one of his goons? I knew Johnson wouldn't hold them like he said he would." Bobby went on, and Jeremiah let him ramble for a few seconds.

"No, it wasn't Harris or his goons. I don't know who it was; it might not have been anyone. It was probably just my imagination; you know with my nerves all worked up, I just seen something that wasn't there, that's all. I went out and didn't find a damn thing, okay?" Jeremiah picked up the plastic bag full of pill bottles and stared at the counter where the stuffed animal should have been laying. "Shit."

"Shit? What?" Bobby picked up on his statement quick enough.

"The rabbit is gone." Jeremiah muttered.

"What do you mean the rabbit is gone?" Bobby sounded pissed.

"It's gone. I left it right here with the pills and my phone and now it's not here." Jeremiah stepped back and checked the floor.

"Shit." Bobby echoed Jeremiah's previous statement.

"So much for imagination," Jeremiah muttered more to himself than to Bobby.

"Someone was in the house." Bobby's tone turned hard. "Someone was in our damn house Jerr'. You sure they aren't still there with you?"

"I ain't sure of anything right now Bobby." Jeremiah sighed. He'd have to admit to his brother now that he'd left the back door standing open when he'd run out into the yard in search of the barely visible face that had been looking in at him. "Let me check the rest of the house. Maybe I dropped it and didn't realize it."

"No. You didn't drop it Jerr', you ain't that fucking clumsy. If it was Jackie, well then I wouldn't be so sure. You just get the rest of the shit together and get your ass back here. Obviously Winston was one step ahead of us on this one. I'm sure he sent someone around there to look for that toy. I guess he ain't one to give up so easy. I don't want you checking shit out alone, there's no telling what kind of fucking low life might still be in there but they got what they wanted and I'm sure Winston didn't send them there to clean us out. They'll leave as soon as you are gone."

Jeremiah ignored Bobby's voice on the other end of the phone. "I don't want to leave until I'm sure no one is still here." He muttered the words and moved towards the dining room. It was more out of curiosity than anything else. He wanted to see if he ran into the same face he'd seen at the door. He was sure he would know the person if he got a good look at that face. He hit the light switch on the wall as he passed it, illuminating the room. He left it on behind him as he moved to the living room. He made his way upstairs, hitting every switch he passed, checking closets and any other obvious hiding spot in the house. The whole time Bobby's voice carried over the phone, telling him to stop playing around and get the hell out of the house, each time he repeated the words he sounded more pissed than the last. He would just have to deal with Bobby when the time came. He wasn't Craig; he was a full grown adult who knew how to handle situations like this, even if Bobby didn't like to admit that he wasn't the only one who grew up with some street smarts. Some of the Mercers just learned how to turn their street smarts into common sense, a concept Bobby Mercer hadn't caught onto yet.

Okay, Jeremiah had to admit, in the past few weeks Bobby's way of doing things had paid off in the long run, but he couldn't always expect to be the one calling the shots. He had to let go of some of his misconceptions of the world and allow his brothers a little room. Something Jeremiah was going to be discussing with him as soon as this whole mess had been straightened out. His marriage was starting to suffer, and he wasn't about to lose the most important part of his self to Bobby Mercer.

"Jerry, did you hear a fucking word I just said to you?" Bobby's voice echoed off the walls as Jeremiah worked his way back down the stairs.

"Yes, I heard you." Jeremiah lied. He had been lost in his own thoughts, concentrating on trying to find anything else out of place, but that was impossible to determine after an afternoon of perfect strangers ransacking the place and helping themselves to bits and pieces of all of their lives.

"Like hell you did. You ain't listening to a word I'm saying. You got no back up there Jerry. Get the hell out of the house now. Winston obviously knows we ain't been there all night, and he's got someone messing with us. You just get the hell out."

By now Jeremiah had gone through the entire house. He hesitated at the bottom of the steps and looked around the foyer for half a second before walking back towards the kitchen. "I'm leaving all of the lights on." He muttered as he realized he hadn't turned a single one off as he'd gone from room to room.

"I don't give a fuck, just get out." Bobby pushed his voice to the point that the words cracked under the pressure. "Someone could off you right now and where the hell would that leave your family? You got no one there to watch your back, just get out."

Jeremiah thought Bobby was exaggerating, he had checked the whole house and there was no sign of any intruder. He sighed with a small bit of relief as he stepped back towards the kitchen. As he passed the basement door, the hinges let out a groan and the door shifted out, away from the jam, just an inch or so. Jeremiah froze in his tracks. The door should have been closed and the bolt secured. His eyes shifted upwards to the bolt lock towards the top of the door, though it was obvious it wasn't secured. He swallowed at the worry that returned full force and had to make an effort to continue walking. His instincts were itching at him to pull the door open and check it out, but Bobby was nearly screaming over the phone that if he didn't listen to him he was going to beat some sense into his thick skull. He decided Bobby's words were starting to have some validity to them. He felt his grip on the plastic bag tighten and turned on his heels, back towards the front door. "Okay, big brother, calm down. I'm leaving now. I should be back there in about twenty minutes." He spoke quickly. "I'll call you if anything else comes up." He flipped the phone closed as he walked out the front door, not giving Bobby the chance to say anything else.

Jeremiah slid in behind the steering wheel of his car and dropped the plastic bag onto the driver's seat. He looked up at the front porch, not sure what he was looking for. It wasn't as if he was about to go back inside if he did see any movement in the well lit windows. He sighed, started the engine and pulled on his seatbelt. His eyes scanned the street around him. There were no strange cars parked in the immediate area. Whoever was in the house hadn't parked close by. His brain strained to put a name with the face he'd seen, but it just wouldn't come. He finally groaned at himself for dwelling on it any further. He knew he needed to forget about it. It didn't matter who the hell it was; they knew it was someone working for Winston.

Bobby was right, Winston had been thinking ahead of them. How the man had known they wouldn't be home, he had no idea, but he had definitely picked the right night to send a scavenger in to hunt for the rabbit. If Jeremiah hadn't shown up and found the damn thing when he did, it would have been safe and sound, still tucked away where Craig had stashed it. The Mercer luck hadn't changed any in the past few weeks, of that he was damn sure. The harder they fought to end the bullshit, the more of it that was shoveled at their feet. He thought about the effect it was having on his marriage and how tired he was of running into the same fucking walls at every turn in his life. He needed a break, his family needed a break. He'd always believed a man had to work hard to get those kinds of breaks, but he'd been working his ass off and things weren't getting better, they were getting worse. How much more could they all take? There had to be a breaking point, right? A point where either they overcame the obstacles that continually littered their path, or they tripped over them and lost it all.

"You aren't feeling sorry for yourself, are you Jeremiah?" A familiar voice echoed in his head. Those were the words his mother would throw at him anytime he felt defeated. He couldn't stand to hear her say them; it made him feel like a small child pouting. He sat up straight in his seat and gripped the steering wheel a little more firmly.

"No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself." He spoke the words aloud, filling the emptiness of the car with his own voice.

"That's more like it." Evelyn's voice rang in his ears. "Now, instead of wallowing in your own worries, why don't you do something about it?"

"I am, Ma." Jeremiah barely got the words out. Okay, he hadn't figured out just what he was gonna do, but he was going to do something. As soon as he was able to get a grip on exactly was going on, he was definitely going to do something.


	29. Chapter 29

Thanks all for reading :) Let me know what you think.

Do not own, make no money.

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****Chapter 29: The Rush**

Jack crushed his cigarette out on the sill and let the butt drop down into the snow beneath. He pushed the window closed and turned to face the room just as Sofi stepped out of the restroom, finally. Angel shot up off out of the chair on the other side of the room, and Bobby even let out a low whistle.

Given that Sofi hadn't had much to work with she had managed to pull off a look that should get her into Winston's suite with no problem. She looked like a hotel employee with the uniform shirt Angel had snatched for her with the top three buttons left open. She had apparently carried a few items in her own bag that helped pull the whole thing together. She had a name tag pinned to her lapel that read 'Rosa', and her hair was piled up on top of her head with a bandana covering it. She had applied more makeup than she usually wore, and her jeans seemed tighter than normal for some reason. She looked at Angel. "Where is my cart?" She asked the question quickly.

"Where is your what?" Angel didn't move towards the woman.

"The cart that has all of the cleaning supplies. Even I know I need a cart, Angel, how am I supposed to look like I'm a maid if I don't have one of those carts? You didn't get one, did you? You thought to get that fucking skirt, but you didn't think about a cart." Sofi planted her hands on her hips and glared at Angel.

"Baby, my mind was on so many other things at the time, I didn't think about one of those carts. I just…." Angel apparently didn't realize the hole he was slowly digging for himself. Jack and Bobby both snickered at the look that came over Sofi's face.

"You had your mind on other things? What other things Angel? Like the skirt?" Again Sofi's voice was deceptively calm. Angel should have been able to read this woman better by now. Hell, he was going to marry her, wasn't he?

"No, not the skirt, and just for the record, I did not get that skirt too small for you on purpose, it was the only thing I could grab at the time." Angel's back straightened up. "We were all working on the spur of the moment to try to get a plan of action together. I did the best I could and I knew that no matter what you of all people would be able to make it work." His words came with strength to them.

Sofi's eyes softened slightly, and it seemed she was starting to consider putting on the garment. "Give me the skirt." She held her hand out.

Angel was still holding the thing in his hand. He gave Bobby and Jack a quick smirk before handing the skirt over to Sofi. He looked triumphant, as if he had known he would get to see Sofi wearing the skirt eventually.

Sofi smiled and without hesitation ripped at the skirt until it tore into two halves. "These make good dust rags." She stuffed them into her back pocket, letting the hotel emblem embroidered on the one half hang out, and then she turned back to the restroom. "I'll be back. They usually put extra trash bags in the bottom of the waste basket."

Angel's mouth dropped open as the restroom door slammed shut yet again. "Damn." He muttered.

Jack had to laugh. He found his brother's misery a good diversion from what he was about to do. He was nervous, but he didn't dare let anyone else know that. His nerves were already raw from the long day, and his mind kept running through what was about to happen. He had insisted to his brothers that he could do this, but that didn't mean he was finding it easy. He was still pissed about what Harris had done to him that afternoon, and he was pissed at Winston for putting them all through more shit. He mentally told himself that anger was what he needed to concentrate on. He was going to do something about it this time, he wasn't going to sit on the sidelines and watch his brothers take action.

Jack looked at Craig, who was lying on his side, looking detached from it all. He hadn't said much since Bobby's last talk with Jerry on the phone. He hadn't shown much emotion when Bobby had explained to them that someone had been at the house and they'd taken the rabbit. Now the kid looked as if he'd lost his best friend. Jack understood why Craig was so attached to the animal. It had been the only constant in his life. It had a connection to his birth mother, something to tell him that the woman did care about him, no matter how screwed up she was. It also had a connection to Evelyn Mercer. It proved to him that no matter what, his adoptive mother had understood him on a level that no one else ever had and never would again.

Now he was facing a reality without that connection. Jack understood it, but he wasn't sure how to help him. He sighed and looked over to Bobby to find the man staring down at Craig. Bobby hadn't said a whole lot since he'd talked to Jerry. He had taken in Angel's predicament and laughed along with Jack, but he hadn't really said much else. Jack didn't like it when Bobby got quiet. It meant the man was thinking, and that wasn't a pleasant prospect for any of them.

The door opened and Jeremiah walked in. He looked like shit. Jack tried to remember if Jerry had looked that bad when he left, or if his encounter at the house had done it to him. He knew all of them were tired, and anxious, but Jerry looked almost beaten. Jack tried to shake off the thoughts that were running through his head. "Finally, what the hell took you so long?" He didn't mean to sound shitty, but his nerves seemed to twist up even tighter at that moment.

"Well I would have been back here a whole hell of a lot faster if I wasn't getting phone calls every three minutes." Jerry held up a plastic bag and gave it a toss towards Bobby. "So, where is Sofi?"

"Restroom," Angel, Jack and Bobby spoke in in unison, the mixture of the voices sounding out in a strange harmony.

Bobby fingered at the knot in the bag. "You okay, Jerr'?"

Jack understood why Bobby would ask, with the way Jerry looked at that moment. All of them were tired, but Jerry looked as if he were struggling harder than any of them.

"I just can't seem to warm up, that's all." Jerry shrugged off his coat, let it fall onto the bed next to him and then dropped down next to it. He rubbed his hands together. "It's cold out there. I ain't felt this kind of cold in years."

Jack was about to ask Jerry if he was sure that was all it was, but the restroom door opened and Sofi walked out again. Nothing about her had changed since she went in the last time, except the trash bags hanging out of her other back pocket, and she seemed willing to be ready. Everyone's attention shifted to Bobby, as if they were waiting for instructions for what to do next.

Bobby got the bag opened and started pulling out bottles, setting each on the table next to him. He took his time, apparently unaware that he was the center of attention. Or, maybe he was well aware of it and was purposely keeping them all waiting until he had all of the bottles set out. "Okay, I guess we're ready to do this." He stood and walked to the rest room. "Jack, you got your part down, right?"

"Yes, Bobby, I got my part down. You don't want me to say anything." Jack rolled his eyes and held in the sigh that was begging to escape. "I will keep my mouth shut and let Sofi do all of the talking."

Bobby returned a moment later with a glass of water. He nodded his head slowly while he grabbed Craig's arm and pulled him to sit upright. He didn't say another word while he gave the teen the pills, one at a time. When he was done he set the glass on the table next to the pills and seemed to focus on Craig. "You are going to stay in this bed. If you want to watch TV, that's fine, but you are not going to move off of this bed. Do you understand me?"

Realization seemed to spread across Craig's face. "You're gonna leave me here?" His voice was tight.

"Not really, we're gonna be here, just not in this room. I need you to promise me you will stay in this bed, and that you'll stay awake. You're good at staying awake when I want you to sleep so this should be simple enough for you, right?" Bobby was about to turn all business, Jack knew that. He needed to be able to concentrate on what was going down around him, not on whether the little brother was okay.

Jack sighed, shifted from where he was next to the window, and stepped over next to Bobby. "Maybe you should let someone stay with him. We don't all have to go. Me and Sofi are the only ones going in…"

"I want Angel outside the door, and I want Jerry with me down the hall. We are gonna stay close to you on this. One little thing goes wrong, and we are coming in for you."Bobby voice turned hard cutting Jack's words off. He didn't look away from Craig as he spoke to Jack, but his eyes shifted towards him for a quick glance before he focused on Craig again. "Now, you are gonna stay in this bed, right?" He let his voice drop back down as he addressed the teen.

Craig nodded his head, barely. Jack could see that glint in the boy's eyes, that piece of him that wanted to argue with Bobby but was holding back. He didn't want to be by himself, and who could blame him? The day had been one from hell for all of them, but the kid had been ripped away from his home and lied to all day by the assholes working for Winston. Jack was sure the events had effected the fourteen year old in more ways than he was letting on. Jack knew how it had affected him, and he was an adult. He could still smell the stale air from inside the holding cell he'd been in; he could still hear the voice of Paul, the asshole corrections officer and the feeling that he didn'thave any control durring that time made him feel sick inside. He could only imagine how Craig felt right then. Jack could at least deal with the threats with a more mature thought process, Craig didn't have that advantage. He'd been lied to and threatened, and he was still scared. The kid was liable to never fully recover from everything that had happened to him so recently.

Jack glanced at Jerry. "Let Jerry stay with him?" He spoke quietly. "He doesn't look too good, so maybe he can just sit this one out with Craig."

Jerry scowled deep and looked up at Jack. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Bobby's eyes closed and he drew in a deep breath. "Jack, I'm gonna explain this once, and then we are going. You are gonna call Jerry's phone, and then you're going to set your phone for speaker. You can do that with your phone, right? So, if there's any problem we will be able to hear it. Now, if Jerry is sitting in here with his phone then how in the hell are we gonna be able to hear shit?" He opened his eyes and looked up at Jack. "You understand what I just said?"

"You could take Jerry's phone with you." Jack challenged.

"Yeah, me and my fucking phone skills and you want me to work one of those things on my own?" Bobby shot back at him. Jack had to admit his brother wasn't the most cell phone coordinated person on the planet.

Jack looked over at Jerry and Angel, hoping for some kind of help from them. When none was offered he turned back to Bobby. "Craig doesn't need to be alone right now." He was sure he could get Bobby to see the logic in his thinking. "He's scared." He spoke quietly.

Bobby looked at Jack for a long moment. "I know that." He turned to Craig, and as he spoke his voice lowered and he spoke in what could be described as a calm tone, as calm as you could get from Bobby. "I do know that, and trust me, if I didn't have to, I wouldn't leave you alone. You understand that, don't you?"

Craig didn't answer right away. He finally nodded his head and muttered something that Jack couldn't quite make out.

"This shouldn't take long. You don't open the door for anyone, and you don't get out of the bed." Bobby stood and adjusted the blankets around Craig's legs before turning to Jack and Sofi. "You both know what you're supposed to do, so let's do it."

"One thing has changed here." Jerry stood slowly, blocking the path to the door.

Jack watched as Bobby stopped walking and all eyes turned to Jeremiah. "What's changed?" He asked the question, afraid of what the answer was.

"We had an intruder at the house, and the son of a bitch took the toy. Hell, for all we know, the guy is in there with Winston right now." Jerry looked at Bobby. "Maybe we shouldn't send them in like this."

"I don't think Winston would be stupid enough to have his henchman come here." Bobby shook his head. "We need to do this." He insisted.

Jerry sighed and stepped over to the door. "Okay, but if this guy shows up, I'm sure he's gonna know what Jack and Sofi both look like. He's been watching the house; he knew it too damn well."

"If Winston has that rabbit now, then is this going to do us any good at all?" Jack asked the question as it hit him. "I mean, what's the point? He thought we had something to hold over him before, but now…"

"He still has to deal with us, no matter what." Bobby shook his head, "You getting' cold feet sweetheart?" He turned to look at Jack straight on.

"No, I'm not getting cold feet." Jack sighed. "I just thought…"

"We still need to find out what's inside that fucking toy. We need to know how it got there and why it's so important. Now let's move, we ain't got all fucking night." Bobby lost his calm as he pointed to the door.

Jerry led them out into the hall. Jack waited for Angel and Sofi to follow, and then pushed his way out past Bobby, taking a quick glance back at Craig, who wasn't looking at them. He noticed Bobby checking on the kid as well. His big brother hesitated before pulling the door closed behind him.

Jack concentrated on sucking in deep breaths as he followed his brothers through the halls towards Winston's suite. This was it, he was about to have his chance to prove to his brothers that he was able to do more than carry a gas can, or he was gonna make a fucking idiot out of himself, like always. He just hoped he didn't talk over his own tongue. That's what usually happened when it came to something like this. He would get nervous and say stupid shit. He had watched Angel and Bobby both work people, saying just what they needed to get what they wanted. They were able lie to people and it would sound so sincere. He had never been able to do that, not with total strangers.

This wasn't just any con though. There was more at stake here than money, and Jack was determined to be a part of taking Winston down. He had to have some control over what was happening to him. There could be no more sitting back and letting his brothers take care of him, he wasn't a kid anymore, and it was about time he stood up for himself.

Jeremiah and Bobby held back at the end of the hall, and Angel followed them as far as the small alcove that sheltered some vending machines. Jack pulled his cell phone out and dialed Jeremiah's number. As soon as Jerry answered the phone he set it on speaker and clipped it to his belt carefully. He felt his stomach turning dizzy on him and his fingers started to tingle.

Angel took Sofi's phone and dialed Johnson's number. He spoke quietly to the detective, letting him know that Jack and Sofi were about to go into Winston's suite. When he ended the call he pointed to a door half way down the hall. "That's Winston's suite. Okay, just stay calm, and remember, you let Sofi do the talking." Angel spoke quietly. "If you have any kind of problem, you need to let us know. We'll come busting though the door Jack."

"I'm fine Angel." Jack muttered, but the truth be told, he could use a cigarette at that moment. He flexed his fingers nervously, trying to get the numb feeling to go away.

"I'm just saying that if you feel like backing out, now is the time. Now would be…." Angel gave him a look that told Jack he didn't trust him to do this, and that wasn't the best confidence builder.

"I'm fine." Jack spoke with more strength to his tone, determined not to let Angel see his fear. "Don't talk to me like I'm a little kid. Believe it or not I'm all grown up, Angel. I'm going to find something in there we can use, okay?" He adjusted his hat and looked at Sofi. "Are you ready?"

Sofi nodded her head and gave Angel a sideways look. "Don't pay any attention to Angel; he's just being an ass because I wouldn't wear the skirt." She winked at Jack before turning to walk towards Winston's suite.

Jack followed Sofi without looking back at Angel. This was his chance to do something for himself and for his brothers and there was no way in hell he was going to back out. Somehow the fear that he'd been feeling seemed to lessen. He knew his brothers were there to back him up. He had Sofi with him, and she had done this kind of thing before. He just had to concentrate and let it happen.

* * *

"Jesse Nicholas." Jessup Winston stared at himself in the mirror while he answered the cell phone. He still wasn't used to using the name. He didn't feel like Jesse Nicholas. He felt like Jessup Winston, the self made man who had a life to be proud of. His brain had been working thousand miles an hour since the Mercers had left. He'd been pacing, walking from room to room, clutching his cell phone, trying to figure out his next move. Every time he tried to sit down and work on anything substantial his mind would start to wander, and then he would start wandering too.

"It's Harris." The man's voice cracked over the line. Winston wasn't sure if it was actual static or if the FBI agent was letting some emotion cross over the line. He had assumed Harris wasn't capable of much emotion, but he had seen a lot of things lately that led him to believe he wasn't the best judge in people. Hell, he'd definitely figured the Mercers wrong.

All of that was neither here nor there at the moment though, he'd been waiting for this call; hoping it never came, actually. "What's going on Harris?" He spoke quietly, still eyeing his own face in the reflection above the bathroom sink. "What exactly went down tonight?"

"From what I've been told, you've already talked to the Mercers. You know what went down tonight." Harris sounded as if he were talking through a straw. The sound of the words in his ears caused his teeth to throb as it brought back the memory of the recent dental work he'd had done.

"Where are you right now?" Winston needed to hear it from Harris.

"You know where I am, I'm being held by the locals." Harris snapped. "Are you gonna do something to get my ass out of here?" He kept his voice down to a low hiss.

Winston remembered Bobby Mercer's warning. Harris was to stay with the cops. It was the only guarantee the Mercer's had that Winston wouldn't double cross them. Without Harris to do his dirty work, he was effectively cut off from his contact to the outside world. Apparently they didn't know about William and James though. The man sighed. "Just relax Harris. You let the police feed you and put you up for the rest of the night, and come morning, this should all be over." He wanted to say more, but he didn't know who else might be listening on the phone. "They've got nothing to hold you on, not really. The Mercers are bringing the item to me. I'll have it in my hands soon enough and then you can walk out of there with no problem."

"The Mercers don't have shit." Again Harris' words had that familiar lisping sound to them. Winston remembered his first encounter with Bobby Mercer, and the teeth he'd lost as a result.

"They knew about the rabbit, they have it, and they are bringing it to me. Once we have it, we can all leave town and forget about the Mercers." Winston was ready to forget about his struggles in Detroit, not just the Mercers. He wanted it to be over. Hell, he hadn't wanted any of this to start with, but sometimes you have to finish what you start.

"They don't have the fucking rabbit, they are bullshitting you." Harris still kept his voice quiet. "Trust me on this."

Winston sighed and walked out of the restroom, making his way back to the sofa. He shook his head, though no one was around to see the action. "They knew about the rabbit and about the key. The kid must remember more than we gave him credit for. It doesn't matter, though. They are going to bring it to me, and then we are going to leave them the hell alone. I knew we should have approached them from the start, we could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble…." He had tried to tell Harris from the start, but the man had talked him into doing it his way.

"I'm telling you, they don't know what the hell has been under their noses all of this time. They don't have the fucking key or the code. They don't know about the inheritance. They would have already been staking a claim on it if they knew shit. They have the kid; they would get it all if they fought for it. Don't fall into the same trap your father fell into." Somehow Harris managed to lower his whisper until it was barely audible.

Winston was about to sit when he heard knocking on the door, followed by a shrill, heavily accented feminine voice, "Housekeeping."

Winston looked at the clock. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning. "What the hell." He muttered. "Hold on Harris." He headed for the door.

He pulled the door open while Harris was still speaking in his ear. He forgot about Harris for the moment, pulling the cell phone away while he looked at the housekeeper standing in front of him. She was a cutie, but the long, lanky man next to him through him off balance. "What the hell?" He repeated the words, but directed them to the couple in front of him.

"Your heat is going out?" The woman didn't smile, in fact, she looked quite unpleasant.

"No, my heat is fine." Winston managed to keep his composure. He wanted to slam the door closed on them, but he didn't want to be rude. "I was about to go to bed for the night." He tried to sound convincing, despite the fact that he had a cell phone in one hand.

"The other rooms on this floor are having problems with their heat. This is Paul; he will need to look at your thermostat." The woman motioned to the man towering over her. "It will not take long at all; he only needs to check some wires." She was one pushy broad.

Jessup Winston didn't have the time for this, he had too many other things going on, and he needed his privacy. "No, you can come back in the morning…." He started to shake his head and tell the woman in front of him to schedule a time to do the work, but realized there wouldn't really be a good time for anyone to be in his suite. He sighed, never finishing his sentence, and stood back from the door. "Make it quick."

"While we're here I can check your trash and see if you need any fresh towels." The woman pushed her way in, and the man followed quickly, giving Winston a quick shrug and half a smile as he passed. He looked as if he wanted to say something.

Winston let his head hang for a long moment while he stood at the door. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head long enough to recall what he was doing before he'd been interrupted. Oh yes, Harris was on the other end of his cell phone. Shit. He pushed the door closed and held the phone up to his ear. He watched as the cleaning woman moved through his suite, checking the trash cans and the maintenance man walked over to the thermostat next to the door that led to the bedroom. He turned his back to the both of them and spoke quietly. "Look, I can't talk right now, but you just sit there and wait with Detroit's finest. We'll get what we want and we'll get the Mercer's off our asses. Don't screw me over like Mack's did, you know how that worked out for him." He kept his voice quiet. "I have to go." He didn't give Harris a chance to say anything more. With a quick motion he flipped his phone closed and turned to find the cleaning woman was no longer in his range of sight. The maintenance guy had the thermostat box pried open and was poking around inside of it. He decided the young man was harmless, but didn't feel comfortable with the pushy little foreign thing going through his room. "Hey, what are you doing?" He called out and maneuvered his way past the worker at the bedroom door. He found the girl emptying his trashcan in the bedroom.

"I'm doing my job." The girl sounded a bit snippy.

Winston frowned. "Isn't this an odd hour for you to do this job?"

The girl flashed a bitchy looking smile at him. "It wasn't my idea. I prefer the easy work that we usually have on the night shift. But Paul doesn't talk much, so I was chosen to walk him around when we started getting the complaints about the heat. He has to find which one of the thingies is broken and messing up the rest of them. They are all connected you know, some kind of computer thing. It won't take him long and we'll be out of your way so you can do whatever people with a lot of money do at two o'clock in the morning." She spoke quickly. "But since I have not been given a choice, I figured I can empty these as we go from room to room and I won't have to do it later. It makes my lousy nine dollars an hour a little easier for me to stomach."

Winston frowned. This was one bitter woman. "Okay, fine, you make this quick and I'll give you a decent tip, okay? I have business to conduct in order make some of that money you seem so damn pissed off that I have." He shook his head and watched while the girl went to the restroom to change the trash bag there. He glanced back to the guy at the doorway, still poking around in the thermostat, before moving to the restroom. He trusted the guy, not the girl. She had an attitude and it wouldn't surprise him if she tried to snatch something of value as soon as she was out of his line of view.

He didn't expect to walk in and find her checking her makeup in the mirror. That was about all he could take….

* * *

As soon as they were in the room, Sofi had found a pile of papers that looked important. Since their target was distracted by his phone call with Harris, she took the opportunity to snatch the documents and dump them in the trash can, emptying the bag quickly, and replacing it with a new one out of her back pocket. Damn, Angel was right, she was good. As soon as Winston had followed Sofi out of the front room, Jack let his eyes dart around his surroundings. There were papers spread out over the coffee table in front of the leather sofa, and another stack of papers on the bar on the far side of the room. He glanced around the doorway and could see Sofi had drawn Winston's attention to her. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed at the nerves binding his stomach. This was it. He had to make a move, or this was all for nothing.

His left foot tried to trip over his right as he moved around the sofa to take a look at the papers. He mentally cursed at his clutzy feet as he reached the table. He fingered through the papers quickly, but nothing looked useful. He glanced back towards the bedroom before moving towards the bar. He found some older documents with Jesse Nicholas' name printed on them. He figured they might mean something; they might help them figure out just what Winston was after, since they looked so old, but held his latest alias. His hands shook while he quickly tapped the papers on the edge of the bar to even them out and then reached under Bobby's loaner shirt to un-tuck his t-shirt. He wriggled the papers down under the belt line of his jeans, tucked his t-shirt back in to conceal them, and then moved back to the thermostat before Winston noticed he as snooping around. His heart was pounding in his chest, his body felt hot. He could feel the blood surging though his body. At the same time his hearing seemed sharper, and his pariphial vision had sharpened emensly.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he peeked around the doorway to see Winston was getting an earful from Sofi. Sofi glanced his way and flicked her eyes towards the desk that set against the wall just on the other side of the doorway. Winston didn't notice the action, and Jack felt a surge of adrenaline rush through his body. He was starting to understand just why his brothers seemed to like this kind of shit. He stuck his face back up to the thermostat as soon Sofi walked into the restroom. He could still see Winston out of the corner of his eye. He knew when the man turned to check on him, and he was relieved when he followed Sofi into the restroom.

There was no hesitation this time. He didn't even have to step into the bedroom; he could lean around the door jam and see everything on the desk. More papers, a notepad and a stack of pictures. He snatched up all of it and stepped back into the living room. He repeated his earlier moves, adding the new items to the other papers under his shirt. He reached up and snapped the thermostat closed when he heard Winston yelling at Sofi.

"I don't care! I will talk to the hotel manager first thing in the morning and I will see to it that you no longer have a job. My private suite is supposed to be just that, private. Coming in here at two o'clock in the morning is the most unprofessional practice possible in an establishment of this caliber. If I wanted to stay in a cheap motel, I wouldn't be here, now would I?" Winston slammed a door somewhere.

An endless string of Spanish erupted from Sofi just as she rounded the doorway. "Come on Paul, let's go." She flashed Jack a quick smile and headed for the door. "You can let the next shift finish the work."

Jack had to struggle to keep from grinning at her. The left corner of his mouth twitched while he fell into step with Angel's fiancé, heading towards the door. He felt Winston behind him, but didn't turn to look at him. He was thankful that Sofi got the door opened quickly. As he stepped into the hallway he made certain to grab the handle and pull it closed after him, effectively halting Winston's pursuit. He was afraid the man would follow them into the hall so that he could continue to yell, but he didn't.

Angel was grinning when they reached the alcove where he'd been waiting. "I guess it went okay?" He didn't give them a chance to stop. He grabbed Sofi's hand and led them back up the hall where Bobby and Jeremiah were waiting just around the corner.

"It went very good." Sofi glanced at Jack. "You got the pictures?" She asked.

"Yeah, but I don't know what good they are going to do us." Jack muttered. He really didn't know what good they would be, but he had liked the feeling that had pulsated through his body when he'd grabbed them off of the desk. "I got some papers too."

Sofi held up the three trash bags in her hands. "Me too," She informed. "I just dumped what I could into the trash before I changed the bags. He was so irritated at us for interrupting his phone call that he didn't notice a thing."

Bobby looked at Jack. "You're okay?" He asked the question quickly.

"Hell, I'm great." Jack finally let go and grinned.

Bobby grinned back. "Okay, did you manage to do any fucking good in there? You got anything for us?"

"Wait until we get back to the room." Jeremiah spoke quickly and looked down the hall in the direction of Winston's room, as if he was afraid the man would come running after them.

Bobby rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue. "Let's go." He motioned for Jack to move ahead of them.

For the first time since early that afternoon Jack felt good. He had gone into Winston's room and he was sure he'd come back with something substantial that they would be able to use. If the papers he'd snatched didn't help them figure out what Winston was after, then they might hold information that they can hold over the man's head, or turn over to Green and Johnson. He felt like he was a real part of resolving the problems that had been dumped in their laps. He had wanted to be a part of taking Winston down, and he felt as if he'd accomplished that. Now they just had to spend some time studying the documents to see exactly what they were.

A new worry hit Jack just as they reached their own hall. What if there was absolutely nothing in the papers that he and Sofi had grabbed that would do them any good? What if the papers he'd left lay were what they really needed? He was the screw up in the family, what if he'd actually screwed this whole operation up? He would end up in prison and God only knew what would happen to his brothers. The grin faded from his face as they reached the door to the room where they had left Craig. His mind was playing out all of the ways their night could go bad because of him fucking up; despite that fact that he'd been sure he was doing something to help his family.

Jeremiah used the key card on the door and pushed it open. Jack followed Jerry into the room, but stopped when his gaze fell on the bed where they had left Craig. The boy wasn't there. It seemed the whole group came to an instant stop just inside the room.

"Fuck." Bobby spoke from beside Jack.


	30. Chapter 30

I know it's been a while, I'm sorry for not updated sooner and I hope some of you are still interested in this one. I haven't given up on it, I just ran into a dry spell. I hope you like, and please let me know what you think :)

As always, I do not own and make no money :)

* * *

**Chapter 30: The Theif**

Nicholas Peters punched Harris' number into his cell phone again. He'd already left four messages, but the federal agent wasn't answering. He paced back and forth across his study. The house was dark and quiet. As soon as he had the package he'd started making the calls. Harris had been expecting the call, he'd known the plan, hell it was his plan. He listened as Harris' voice told him once again to leave a message. He flipped the phone closed, frustrated, and turned to look at the paper bag sitting on his desk. A small tuft of blue showed through a hole in the side of the bag.

His original instructions had been to leave the papers in the house. Harris had been specific about where to stash them. Peters wasn't proud about setting the Mercers up, but what choice did he have? While he was in the house he was also to look for a stuffed animal. Harris had promised him the house would be empty, and he'd described the toy to him in great detail. He'd planted the papers and then started his search, but then Jeremiah Mercer had come in. He'd managed to duck out the back door for a short time, but it was so cold and he'd tried to watch the man inside. He had been surprised to see the stuffed animal Harris had described to him on the counter. He only had to get his hands on it to make Harris happy. If Harris was happy he had a chance of getting out from under the trouble he was facing. He was trying to figure out how to get Jeremiah Mercer out of the house when the man seen him through the window. He had managed to get around the corner of the house when Jeremiah came out and then he'd moved inside while Mercer made his way through the yard, searching. Snatching the stuffed toy off of the counter and ducking into the basement door had been easy, though his heart had been drumming hard and fast in his chest. He wasn't used to adrenaline, and he found that he liked the rush, but it all seemed like a lot to go through for an old stuffed animal.

He didn't understand how a child's toy could be so important, but arranging to get his hands on it in exchange for his problems disappearing had seemed easy enough. It was only a stuffed animal; he wasn't hurting anyone by stealing it, right? Now he just had to get it to Harris without anyone else finding out about it. That was supposed to be easy too but the damn fool wasn't answering his phone.

He had met with Harris several times since their first meeting at Tri-Centennial Park. He'd met with him at his hotel once, but Harris didn't seem very comfortable having him there. If the man was sleeping soundly in his room while he was trying to hold up his end of the bargain he was going to be pissed.

Peters drew in a deep breath and slid his cell phone into his pocket. If he couldn't get a hold of Harris on the phone, he would just see if he could catch him at his hotel. He grabbed the paper bag off of his desk and walked out of the study while digging his car keys out of his pants pocket.

Twenty minutes later Nicholas Peters walked up to the front desk of the hotel. He wasn't sure why the government would shell out the money for an agent to stay in such an expensive hotel, but he knew Harris didn't follow all of the rules, hell, he doubted if he followed any of the rules. He'd only met up with Harris once in the lobby, and they'd gone to a restaurant for breakfast where Harris had passed on the falsified documents that Peters had stashed in the Mercer house earlier that night.

The clerk that came up to the desk to help him looked confused when Peters asked that he ring Agent Harris' suite. The young man punched some buttons on the keyboard before giving Peters his full attention. "Sir, we do not have a guest by that name." He shook his head. "However I do recognize the name, Harris. The gentleman has been here numerous times for meetings with Mr. Nicholas."

Peters was surprised to hear the name. "Mr. Nicholas?" He repeated. He had heard his given name referenced as a surname in the past, it was fairly common actually, but for some reason to hear it at that moment, under the circumstances just sent a chill down his back. It had to be Harris, or at least a connection to Harris, he could feel it in his gut. Not that he was used to relying on his gut. He wasn't used to a lot of things, like breaking into people's houses and stealing stuffed rabbits, but he had managed to do that. "Can you call up to Mr. Nicholas then? Tell him Nick Peters is here to see him?" He didn't see any other choice but to follow through with this Nicholas person.

The clerk sighed and turned to the computer screen in front of him. He punched more buttons on the keyboard and studied the screen for a moment. "Mr. Nicholas left strict orders not to be disturbed any further this evening. His associates however, checked in just a short time ago. Perhaps you can relay any messages that way?" The man looked a bit frazzled, as if he'd had a rough night, or perhaps he was new. Maybe that was why he was breaking basic hotel protocol. The information he was giving out should never have been passed on. The young man could lose his job if it was discovered he'd even given out the name of a guest, or information about his business.

Peters' brain was still processing the information just as the man in front of him seemed to catch his own screw up. He had to act fast or he wouldn't get past the front desk. "I can do that, yes, what room are they in? I have a package I need to drop off." He spoke quickly and held the brown paper bag in his left hand up into view of the clerk, hoping the man wouldn't stop helping him.

"I can't give you a room number." The clerk shook his head quickly.

Peters drew in a deep breath and leaned forward across the counter. "Look, if you don't give me the room number, I'll raise all kinds of hell right here, and complain to your boss that you gave me the name and information about a guest. That wouldn't go over well, now would it?" He kept his voice quiet but imitated the threatening tone he'd heard Harris use. He looked into the young man's eyes and knew he was going to get the information with little resistance.

* * *

Craig stared at the television; he wasn't interested in the infomercial that was on, but he tried to watch it, it was better than letting himself think about where he was and what was happening. Some English guy was trying to tell him how his tiny appliance could slice, dice, chop and mix everything from fruit and nuts to meat and ice; and for some reason, filling the contraption with cement chunks was supposed to convince him that it was all true. Craig expected the thing to grow wings and fly around bombing the counter with cashews before it folded up and stored neatly away in a drawer somewhere. And it was pretty cheap really, only five easy payments of $29.95, but if you acted now, they would give a real deal and you would only have make four payments, and you would get a free set of kitchen knives, and a free travel bag. What he didn't understand was if the thing worked so well, why would you need knives, and what the hell did a travel bag have to do with the contraption they were trying to sell?

Every so often his mind tried to slip away into his memories of that day, that week, the last couple of months, the past few hours. He was trying to block it all out, but it was still there, screaming at him from the darkest crevices of his mind. It seemed the harder he struggled to concentrate on the images of the television, the less control he had over the heaviness that was settling in his chest.

The troubled feeling was creeping across his entire being. He tried not to identify the source that could stir the same emotions he'd felt when Evelyn Mercer had died; maybe not quite as strong, but still the same feeling of loss. It did no good to fight it. The crushing weight of the day's events seemed to crash down on him harder than ever and his brothers had left him to bear that weight alone.

He wanted to go home, and curl up in his bed with his blue bunny squeezed tightly to him. A childish yearning, one that he never could admit to anyone, but it was still there nonetheless; it would never happen though, the rabbit was gone. It was stolen. His brothers had told him they would have to cut the animal open, but he knew that they would show some care if they did. He trusted that they meant it when they said they would return his small toy to him with little signs of having been violated. Just a few short weeks earlier he never would have trusted their words so completely and that had to mean something, though at the moment he wasn't sure what.

Whoever had his toy now would show little respect to how it was returned to him; in fact he doubted he would ever see it again, and it was as if part of him had died with the loss. He didn't understand why it was so important to him, other than it had been the only thing from all those years with Adam Macks that he'd had control over.

He had been entrusted with the small plush toy by his mother. It had been his job to keep it safe, away from Adam Macks no matter what, and he'd managed to do that for a long time. He'd kept his little friend under his mattress, or wrapped up in his clothes, or any little secret hiding spot he could think of, including under loose floorboards or behind wall slats; whatever was most accessible to a small child under his father's watchful eye or with a foster family who didn't believe in letting small children be small children. He didn't know why, but it was important for him to hold onto it, no matter what, that's what his mother, his first mother had told him. If Adam Mack's had found his toy he would have taken it away. He would have been punished for keeping it a secret too, he'd known that, but he'd still done as his mother asked. He had known what kind of horrors his father could bring down on him, and still, he'd done what his mother had told him. Of course, to him, a small child, he'd only been protecting his toy, his only toy. He had no idea that all of that time his special rabbit had held a secret of its own.

He wasn't a small child anymore, and thinking back on it now, knowing what he knew, he wondered how his mother could have possibly put such a burden on him. He had only been four, maybe five years old. He'd been so small, and hadn't known what was being asked of him, not really. She had known what Adam would do to him if he'd found the stuffed animal. She had known what the man did to him on a daily basis. She had taken him with her every time she'd left his father, but they always ended up back with him. She had to know what her son was going through every night, no matter how hard she tried to hide from it in her drugs.

As his brain stirred the old memories around, the fears that had haunted him for most of his life seemed to rise inside. The infomercial was lost to him now that his brain had started toying with his fears. The sounds of the television were nothing but a low buzzing in the room, a background noise for every creak and groan from the floors and walls. Normal sounds that anyone could hear in any room in any building at any time of the day; sounds that usually went unnoticed, seemed to magnify in volume.

First it sounded like scratching at the window, but when he turned to look in that direction the noises seemed to shift and were then coming from the door, the very door that separated him from the hallway and any threat that might be on the other side. In the dim light from the lamp on the table, his eyes were able to join in on the game as well, and he was sure he could see the door handle moving, ever so slightly. He held his breath and tried to reason with the panic that was building up inside of him. He was tired, and he knew he was scared. He knew his imagination was trying to play tricks on him, but knowing it didn't make it any better. He knew the door used a keycard, not a normal key. He still saw the handle turn. He still heard a click of the latch. He still smelled the stale tobacco and whiskey that always hung around his father.

He squeezed his eyes closed and planted his hands over his ears. "He's dead." He muttered to himself but the actual words felt odd to him. There hadn't been time over the past few days for his mind to absorb the reality of everything that had happened. Adam Macks was always the fear that drove him and controlled what he thought and felt. The idea that the man was really dead didn't fit very well with what he was used to. How was he supposed to adapt to not looking over his shoulder, expecting his father to be there? He had never been able to imagine a world without Adam Macks, not even when the man was in jail and he was facing a new life in foster care. He always knew that Adam Macks would be back, he always came back somehow. There was a difference between his father being in jail and being dead, but it didn't feel different, it still seemed as if he could come walking though the door at any minute, and take complete control over everything. So even though he knew the man was dead, he still couldn't fathom the true meaning of it. All he knew for certain was how he felt in the moment, and at that moment his mind was screaming that Adam Macks was outside the door.

He repeated the words, "He's dead." But it didn't seem to help. He wanted to scream for Bobby, but he knew that wouldn't go over well. He'd only succeed in disturbing other people in the hotel and then Bobby would be pissed at him for drawing attention to them. He looked back at the television, but the picture on the screen was blurry. It was at that moment he realized he was fighting down tears.

He was sure he heard the handle on the door click again, and he flicked his eyes towards it. He swallowed hard. He drew in a deep breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sure that if he walked over to the door and pulled it open he would find the hall empty. He knew if he could see the empty hall that he would feel better. He had managed to stand up to Harris earlier that night, even though he'd been terrified of him, and if he could do that then something as simple as opening a door and checking the hall should be simple. He stood on the floor and stared at the door for a long moment, waiting to see if the handle moved, or if there was any more sounds that seemed threatening.

He didn't remember stepping across the carpet, but apparently he did because somehow he found himself standing directly in front of the door. He reached for the handle quickly before his nerve left him; he jerked the door open with such a force that it rocketed past him and smacked hard into the wall. He jumped backwards in the same moment, not sure what he was expecting to find outside the door.

Adam Macks was not there. No one was there except for a man and woman walking down the hall. The woman turned and looked him oddly, as if a kid jerking a door opened in the middle of the night was an abnormal thing to see. He felt a sigh release from deep inside of him and it was at that moment that he realized he'd been holding his breath. He reached for the door, to push it closed, but stopped.

What if someone had been there and they hid because they heard the couple walking towards them in the hall? Craig quickly hugged his arms to his stomach and watched the backs of the couple disappear at the other end of the hall before he stepped slowly though the threshold of the door. He looked towards the left and then the right. He stepped the few feet that separated him from the corner in the hall and peeked around it. There was no one else in sight. Another sigh escaped him, long and shaky. He turned to go back to the room and found himself staring at a man who blocked his way. His insides froze and he tried to find his voice; he wasn't sure what he would have said if he'd found it, but he tried to find it anyway, with no success.

His feet started moving backwards, away from the room. The man was staring at him in a way that Craig had seen before, a look of recognition and surprise. Craig didn't know him, but it was obvious the man knew him somehow. Craig took another step backwards, unsure of what he should do. Run or confront? He was used to running; it was something he did well. It was a survival reaction and it had been ingrained into his soul at some point.

He was about to turn and put all he had into an effort to escape when his eyes flicked towards the paper sack in the man's hand, and the blue clump of fur that was sticking through a hole in the brown paper. He felt his legs moving, but now they were propelling him forward, towards the familiar companion wrapped in his wrinkled brown paper. He didn't think about what he was doing. His arms moved on their own, with no guidance from his brain, his hands shot forward, snatching for the prize in front of him. There was no resistance from the man, no struggle to keep his hold on paper bag holding the stuffed animal.

"You son of a bitch," Craig pulled his rabbit free of the brown paper and hugged it to him. He felt tears stinging at his eyes and wasn't sure why.

"Craig Mercer?" The man's voice trembled.

Craig blinked quickly to clear his vision of the tears trying to well up there. He looked at the man. "Who know me?" He muttered.

The man was wearing a suit, tie and dress shoes. He wasn't anyone that Craig could remember meeting. He could have been a lawyer, or an accountant. He didn't have the mean look that usually told Craig a person was dangerous. He knew the mean look well, his father had always had it; He imagined Sweet had it, Jordan had it and Harris had it. It was the look that usually bit at Craig's gut, telling him to be afraid.

This stranger in front of him didn't have that look, but he looked scared. Craig wished his brothers would come around the corner at that moment.

The man drew in a deep breath. The fear that had been written across his face was changing now. Worry was replacing it. "Where are your brothers?" He asked quickly.

"Who are you?" Craig wasn't about to answer the man's question.

There was no answer to his question. The man reached out, aiming for the stuffed animal Craig hugged tight to him. "I'm sorry, but I have to have that back."

Craig jumped back a few steps. He wasn't about to let go of the only physical connection he had to the few happy memories of his life before Evelyn Mercer. He'd been sure after Jeremiah's experience at the house that he'd never see his little friend again. The material had been worn down to threads from so many nights of being hugged close to him. The stuffing was flattened in some spots from years of being squeezed so hard.

"I'm sorry, but it's important. I need that toy." The man moved to reach for him again.

Craig turned and ran. He didn't care for the moment how it looked for him to be running through the halls with a stuffed animal hugged tightly to him. He wasn't about to give it up to a stranger, a thief for certain. He ran around a corner in the hall and reached the elevator. He pushed on the 'down' button numerous times, though he knew repeatedly hitting it wouldn't speed up the car. He could hear the heavy beats of shoes on carpet behind him and instantly forgot the elevator. He wasn't going to have time to wait for it.

He started running again, reached the next corner and spied a metal door with a push bar running across its center. He used his body to shove his way through it and headed down the steps as quickly as he could. He heard the door click closed after him and glanced back up the steps to see if opened. The fact that the door had no handle or any way to open it from his side didn't register at that moment, but it didn't burst open under the stranger's weight either. Craig stopped on the landing below the door and held his breath. No movement, no sound. He could almost hear his breathing echoing off the cement walls.

Craig considered going back up the steps, but that was the moment he realized the door couldn't be opened from inside the stairwell. He drew in a deep breath and turned his attention down the steps. He would have to follow them down, probably to the first floor. He wondered if the door would empty out into the lobby or outside. It didn't matter, as long as the thief had lost track of him and apparently he had because he wasn't following him anymore. He could go to the front desk and tell them he locked himself out of his room. He couldn't remember what room he'd been in but surely the hotel clerk would recognize him from earlier; wouldn't he remember that he'd been with his brothers? No one could forget Bobby, that was a given.

His mind was rambling on at him as he made his way down the stairs. Every door he passed was like the one before, no hardware and no way to open up into the hallway on the other side. His feet were on automatic, not stopping until he reached the bottom landing. Once his feet stopped moving his mind stopped thinking. He stood in front of the last door and stared at the handle. Bright red letters had been painted on the door marking it as an emergency exit. The boy looked down at the toy in his hands and thought twice about stumbling out the door with the bunny hugged to him. He hadn't cared a minute earlier if anyone seen him with the stuffed animal, but now he had to consider the whole situation, He had to consider Winston, Harris, and the stranger who had showed up at the hotel door expecting to see someone else. He'd been too surprised to find Craig Mercer for him to have known he'd be there, and yet he did know him. No one could see the rabbit, no one could know he had it; there was no telling who was a friend and who was working for Winston.

His brain was in danger of taking off on a long thought process, and he had to give his head a quick shake to stop it. He lifted the shirt Jeremiah had given him to wear, and tucked the rabbit safely out of view before sucking in a deep breath, stepping up to the door and giving it a tug.

The alarm wasn't quite as loud as what had been filling the stairwell at St. Vincent's earlier that evening, but it still echoed off the cement walls. Craig felt panic hit his gut as he rushed out of the stairwell, pulling the door shut hard behind him. The alarm died almost instantly. He realized the alarm was on the door only. He looked around the lobby he'd been in a couple of hours earlier. He was surprised there was no one at the front desk, no people at all, anywhere. Of course, it was in the middle of the night, most people were sleeping. Most people, but not everyone, he was awake, though he should have been tired. His brothers were still going strong; they just weren't anywhere that he could get to them. There had been a couple outside their room too, but they were probably ending their night, heading to their own room for whatever couples did after hours. And of course he couldn't forget the stranger-thief that had surprised him outside the door. Still, there was no one in the lobby; no employees standing around, no guests walking by, no movement, no sound. There should have been employees at least.

The boy walked over to the counter. "Hello?" He called out. No answer. He looked around the lobby once more. He noticed a door on the back wall, behind the counter. He stepped around the counter, planning on opening what he assumed was a door to an office, to yell again and try to get the attention of someone on the other side. The computer screen at the front desk was flashing the logo of the hotel. Craig glanced at the door, reached for the mouse next to the monitor and gave it a slight twitch; just enough to erase the screensaver and reveal the program it had been hiding. A list of room numbers and names filled the screen, and to his surprise, there was one line that was highlighted in blue. The name jumped out at him, Jesse Nicholas. The room was on the tenth floor. Directly under the highlighted line the man's name appeared again, with another room number, and then a third line with another number that was listed as a suite. Well, at least now he knew what room number he needed to get back to.

Craig moved back around the counter and headed towards the elevator. He held his breath when the door to the elevator slid open. He was half expecting the man who had been running after him to be standing in front of him, but the car was empty. He hit the button for the tenth floor and watched as the door slide closed. He felt his heart start to race as the numbers above the door lit up marking the progress of the elevator. He prayed the hall would be empty when the door opened. What if the stranger was there, waiting for him? What if his brothers weren't back yet? What if he was going to step out of the elevator and be stuck, alone in the hallway, with that man still looking for him?

The number ten lit up, the elevator stopped and the door opened.


	31. Chapter 31

Thanks for the reviews, they all mean a lot! As always, let me know what you think about this chapter :)

Legal stuff still counts.

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**Chapter 31: Clues**

"Fuck." Bobby pushed his way past Jack and Jerry to the restroom door. His voice was louder than it should have been. "Craig?" But the restroom was empty. He turned back to his brothers.

"He's done gone on one of his walks." Jeremiah sighed. He and Jack were still standing just inside the door, their blank stares scanning the room.

Angel lingered at the doorway next to Sofi, holding the door open, shaking his head slowly. "I don't know man; I don't think he would take off, not when he knew where we were and what we were doing. I think someone showed up and took him out of this room. I would have expected him to fight them though."

"Who the hell could have been here?" Bobby cried out. "He wouldn't have just left, he knows what the hell is going on here, he knows better." He was trying to convince himself that his little brother wouldn't just wonder off, not now, not when it was so important that he stick tight to the room, like he'd been told.

Bobby had made sure Craig had swallowed each and every one of his pills. He should have been sleeping, not roaming around the halls somewhere. It didn't make sense that he'd leave the room. No, someone had to have been there, someone took him; that was the only answer. His mind was churning around who could have possibly busted into the room and snatched the kid. Harris was with the cops; Winston was at the other end of the hotel, holed up in a fancy assed suite. What about Harris' two goons, William and Jim? They had been taken to the hospital, but were they going to be held afterwards? If they had been held, had they been released already? No, if Harris' goons had been released Green would have given them a warning call.

There was a missing piece of the puzzle and Bobby couldn't figure it out. The only other answer was that Craig had walked out of the room on his own, with no one forcing him. Bobby studied the room, there was no sign of a fight, and nothing was out of place. The kid's shoes even rested on the floor next to the bed. If he had taken off, wouldn't he have put on his shoes as least? They had been through too much in the past weeks for the boy to give into old habits, right? He was trying to convince himself Craig had gotten past the need to run off when things got hard to deal with. But another part of his brain was remembering the emotional rollercoaster the kid had been on recently, that day in particular.

Harris had snatched him and taken him off, alone. Bobby still wasn't sure what the man had said to Craig. Craig hadn't told him much, he'd said Harris didn't really ask him about anything other than the day Macks had been killed, but Bobby wasn't sure if he believed that so much. It felt empty. What if Harris had done or said more than Craig had shared with them, something that had the kid reeling? It wouldn't be the first time the teen had gotten lost in his emotions and wondered off. It was what he did; it was what he was good at, just taking off on his own. He'd taken off from Johnny's the day Macks had caught him up to him in the cemetery. He'd nearly frozen to death the day he walked out of Jeremiah's house. He'd run the day they found out what had really happened the day their mother was murdered. Hell, he'd taken off the morning of Thanksgiving and roamed the streets without any kind of coat. The kid was a runner, and when shit got tough was when he ran. Well, shit was definitely tough for them all at the moment.

Jack looked at Bobby, "Maybe he decided he needed to take a walk?" He looked almost hopeful, contradicting the feeling that was washing over Bobby when he considered Craig taking off for one of his walks.

"You think that's a good thing Cracker Jack?" Angel spoke from the doorway, his words sounding hard.

"I think it would be better than the alternative, yeah." Jack turned and looked back at Angel. He was about to say more but his mouth hung open for a second too long. His eyes shifted slightly and it was obvious he was focused on something in the hallway. "What the hell is that?" His hand waved towards the hallway behind Angel.

Angel turned and sidestepped around Sofi. He leaned over and picked something off the floor, "A paper bag." He held it up and crumpled it up in his hand. "I think you're right, someone was here." He met Bobby's gaze.

Jeremiah shook his head. "Who the hell would have known where we were? No one knows except Green and Johnson." He stepped over to the bed and sat down. "No, no one was here; the kid took off, just like he's good at. I'm tellin' ya." He sounded exhausted.

Bobby wasn't sure what was going on. "Well, there there's one way to find out. I'm gonna go down to the lobby and ask a few questions. If someone got into this room they had a card, and that means someone had to check in at the desk. If no one got a key, then the kid took off." He was pissed. Really, he was scared shitless, but pissed off was how it was coming out, and he didn't mind that one bit. He did 'pissed' well; 'scared' was more difficult to deal with. He moved past Jeremiah and Jack and headed for the door. Angel stepped back to clear the way, pulling Sofi with him.

Bobby remembered the papers Sofi and Jack had managed to snag from Winston's room. He turned back to look at Angel while he stepped backwards down the hall. "Go through that shit and see what you can come up with. I'll be right back." He turned around and stepped quickly around the corner to where the elevator waited. He was reaching for the 'down' button when the door to his right slid open noisily. He looked at it, surprised by the sound and motion from the elevator. His surprised turned into a mixture of relief and anger when Craig stepped through the door.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Bobby managed to keep from yelling as he quickly moved to the boy. He wrapped his arms around him hard but only left them there long enough to be sure the kid was real. He remembered he was pissed and quickly stepped back. "You were told to stay in bed." He reminded.

"There was someone there." Craig had started to hug his brother back, and looked as if he still wanted to despite the fact that he was obviously in trouble. "He was outside the door." He muttered as he pulled back from Bobby.

"What?" Bobby cried out. "So you what, opened the door and let someone in? That's really using your head kid." He hoped the boy denied it.

Craig opened his mouth and shook his head. "I thought it was my imagination." He managed to speak quietly. He looked down at the floor under his feet. "But then he was right there and…"

Bobby felt the anger draining from his chest. The kid looked beat, and scared. He probably had a bad dream and had gotten what was real mixed up with his imagination, it happened more than Bobby liked and he knew Craig couldn't help it. "Just calm down, let's go back to the room. You can tell me all about it once we get you settled down."

Craig let Bobby put his arm around him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take off, but he chased me and…"

Bobby's throat tightened as he fought off anther twinge of worry and anger. He was struggling with whether he wanted to hug onto the boy or beat his ass at the moment and he tried not to let it show. The kid's imagination had either been very vivid, or it had been real. "Who chased you?" He walked the boy back towards the room at a slow pace, though he really wanted to rush and get him safely back into the bed he'd left him in earlier.

"I don't know who he was." Craig didn't struggle as Bobby moved him down the hall towards their room. "But he had this." The boy reached under the oversized shirt he was wearing and pulled out the blue and white rabbit that had been the center of so much worry all evening.

Bobby stopped in his tracks, pulling Craig to a stop next to him. His mind went blank on him as he tried to process the site of the stuffed animal in the boy's hands. He managed to shift his gaze to Craig, who was looking up at him. Tears were pooling in the kid's eyes and he looked scared. Well, one thing had been figured out at least, it wasn't Craig's imagination. There had been someone there, at the room, and Craig had encountered him and had managed to do something that Jeremiah hadn't. He'd gotten the rabbit.

"How did you get that away from him?" Bobby asked quietly.

"I just grabbed it and ran." Craig answered and held the rabbit out towards his brother. The tears started to fall down his cheeks as he made the offer for Bobby to take the toy.

Bobby shook his head. "You hold onto that for a little while longer. I get the feeling it's safer with you than anyone else right now." He gave the teenager a slight squeeze around the shoulders. "Come on, your brothers are worried like hell about you." He pulled Craig to the door, which was now closed. He banged on it and waited for someone to answer.

They didn't have to wait long. Angel opened the door almost instantly. Craig was pulled into a hug by each of his brothers as Bobby tried to get him back to the bed on the other side of the room. Bobby watched the teen stiffen with each hug, pulling back too soon for his comfort. He wondered what was going through the kid's head. Did he think he'd been abandoned to deal with the ass hole who had showed up at their door or was he just scared shitless by the fact that he'd been chased? He was starting to understand how the kid's brain worked. He wanted to talk to him and find out just what he was thinking, but there wasn't any time. He needed to know about the man who'd been there with the rabbit, but now wasn't the time or the place to try to deal with the effects of the whole day was having on the kid. He needed to deal with Winston's games before he could deal with anything else; one thing at a time, whether he liked it that way or not.

No one noticed the rabbit in Craig's hands until Bobby had him sitting on the bed and was standing in front of him. Jeremiah was the first to say something about the rabbit, and then everyone shot question wanting to know where the kid had got it.

"You want to tell me about the fucker in the hallway now?" Bobby asked.

Craig quietly relayed what had happened while his brothers were gone. He talked about how he'd heard noises. He admitted that he thought it was his imagination, but decided to check the hall just to be safe. Bobby was actually impressed that the kid had enough guts to open the door, but he wasn't about to let him know that. He didn't want Craig to start doing stupid shit just because he'd seen his brothers doing stupid shit. He wanted Craig to do the smart shit and not put himself in danger. "You never open the fucking door." He kept his voice calm, even though he wanted to yell. "You got that? If you are by yourself in a room that's secure, you stay right where you are."

"But I didn't think anyone was there." Craig looked up at Bobby. "I thought it was…"

"I know what you thought, but you didn't listen to me, did you? I told you not to get out that bed." Bobby's brain was starting to imagine what could have happened to the kid and he didn't like it. "You could have been hurt." His voice rose slightly. "We don't know who the hell this guy was, but he obviously broke into our home and took that fucking toy out from under Jeremiah's nose. He could be dangerous, there's no telling what the hell he would have done to you if he'd gotten his hands on you Craig. Do you understand that?"

"Bobby, man, calm down." Jack spoke from just behind Bobby. "You're gonna scare him more than he already is."

"Calm down?" Bobby turned and looked at Jack. "I ain't gonna calm down; the kid didn't listen to me. He could have been…" He didn't get a chance to finish his thought out-loud.

Craig spoke with some strength in his voice. "He knew me." His voice shook slightly, but he sounded almost determined. "He knew who I was, and he didn't know I was here until he seen me. He was looking for someone else."

Bobby turned back to the boy. "Why do you think he knew you?"

"He knew my name, and he asked why I was here." Craig muttered. "He had a paper bag, and I seen it in the bag…." Craig looked down at the rabbit and sat there with his mouth halfway forming a word. He closed his mouth and after a long moment he spoke again. "I grabbed it and I ran." He repeated what he'd said in the hall.

"He chased you?" Bobby asked, his mind still trying to grasp just what had happened while they had been invading Winston's room.

"Yeah, I ran into the stairwell and he didn't follow me that far." Craig muttered. "The doors didn't open from the inside, so I had to go down. I ended up in the lobby, and no one was there. I looked at the computer because I couldn't remember what room we were in." The kid was staring at the rabbit hard. "I'm sorry Bobby." He sucked in air and Bobby was sure his shoulders shook when he did.

Bobby's own instincts were to sit next to the kid and hug him. He wanted to make him feel better somehow, but there wasn't time. They needed to get their shit together and find the answers they needed to end their problems once and for all. "Good, you should be sorry. You never should have opened that fucking door." He spoke in response to Craig's apology. He knew it sounded harsh, but he wanted the kid to remember how he was feeling, at least for a little while. If he remembered that feeling, maybe he'd do what he was told and stay where he was supposed to so his brothers wouldn't have to worry about him on top of everything else.

"Bobby, man, give him a break." Jeremiah spoke up.

"Give me the rabbit now Craig." Bobby ignored Jeremiah. He held his hand out so Craig could give up the stuffed animal.

Craig looked up at Bobby. "You're gonna cut him open." The boy stated the obvious.

Bobby nodded his head. "He ain't gonna bleed kid. He's got stuffing inside, no guts, no blood and no bone."

"We promise we'll fix him back up, almost as good as new." Jack spoke quickly.

Doubt shadowed Craig's features, but he lifted the stuffed animal so that Bobby could take it. "I'll be careful, okay?" Bobby did feel bad for being hard on the kid, but hell, he could have been a lot harder. He couldn't risk losing him; that was not an option.

Bobby reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife. He flicked the blade out and held the point up to what was supposed to be the rabbit's belly.

"I wasn't allowed to let Adam know about him." Craig muttered.

Bobby hesitated and looked at Craig again. "What?" He wasn't sure he heard the words right, they were unexpected.

"My first mom, she told me Dad couldn't know about him; that he would take him away if he knew. She said he'd take him away, and that he'd be mad at me. I was supposed to keep him safe." Craig's eyes were fixed on the toy. "And then I lost him when they took me to St. Vincent's and I thought for sure Adam had him. I was scared."

Jack pushed past Bobby and sat down next to teen. "But Mom found him for you. We already know that. We know he's important and we'll be careful with him, okay?"He put an arm around the boy.

Craig nodded his head.

Bobby turned away from the kid. How the hell was he supposed to cut into the fucking rabbit when the kid had such a pathetic look on his face? He sucked in a hard breath and started to stick the tip of his blade through the bunny's blue fur, but he hesitated. How the hell was he supposed to cut the little thing open? He didn't want to mutilate it, he'd told Craig he'd be careful, but how the hell did you cut something like that open without ruining it forever?

"Here, let me." Sofi walked over and snatched the toy from Bobby's hands. "You'd think it was going to scream in pain the way you're looking at it." She walked over to her bag and started digging around. She came up with a small plastic pouch, a sewing kit, and from that she pulled out a tiny pair of scissors. "You snip the stitches on the seam, and that way it can be sewn back together, just like nothing ever happened." She looked at Bobby and smiled.

Now Bobby was really worried. Sofi was being nice? Hell that couldn't be a good sign for what was coming next.

"Hey, I might have something here." Angel was busy going through the papers from the trash bags that had been deposited on the other bed. "Jerry, what do you make of this?" He thrust the paper in his hands towards Jeremiah.

Jerry took the paper. "Well, these look like they could be bank account numbers." He pointed to one column on the page. "And these are dollar figures." He pointed to another column. "But there is a second dollar amount, right next the first one, hand written." He was speaking quietly. "And each one has the name of a state next to it. Las Vegas, New York, Illinois, Michigan; it looks like about fifteen different accounts, all with different states. Maybe that's where these banks are."

"Yeah, now look at this one." Angel handed Jeremiah another sheet of paper.

Jerry nodded his head. "Same account numbers, same states listed, but the dollar amounts are different." He compared the two papers.

"Yeah, subtract the hand written figures from the original numbers there. What do you get?" Angel asked.

Jeremiah held the second sheet up, "The amount that is on this one."

Bobby's interest was piqued now. "Are there any names on the accounts?" He stepped closer to get a look at the papers.

Both of his brothers shook his head. "No, no names." Angel voiced the answer. "Just the name of states listed on the side." He pointed it out on the paper.

Jeremiah reached into the open trash bag and pulled out some more papers. "This one is similar, but it lists properties, businesses. The same thing with the dollar amounts, one printed and one written by hand." He shook his head. "This can't be money laundering, can it?"

"Actually it can." Angel snatched the paper from Jeremiah. "Let me see that." He reached to get the rest of the papers from Bobby. "The figures listed with the properties match the original figures on the first print." He nodded his head. "Winston buys legitimate business and properties with dirty money. He turns around and sells them at a loss, and since it's his corporation doing the business, he can file for government assistance, or tax breaks on the loss. Hell, he's probably coming out ahead by selling at a loss and when it's all done and over, the money is cleaned, right?" He didn't seem sure of what he was saying. He looked at Bobby with a questioning look.

Bobby shook his head, "I don't know; it's nothing like I've seen before. This money had to go through more banks before it ended up in these accounts, and he sold the shit at a loss? I mean money laundering using his legit business? Ain't that just opening the door for federal investigations? The feds would suspect something with this many bad investments by any business. Winston prides himself with having his legitimate dealings to fall back on, right?"

"But his father wouldn't have given a shit about his son's pride. He could have started this shit before he died, pushed Winston to do it for him just once, and then when that worked out, pushed it again. I mean there are dates here; some of them go back ten years. This shit was all from years ago, each account has a date. Look at this one, Sunshine Orchards, just outside of Detroit, in 95. That would have been before Winston took over the 'family business', wouldn't it?" Angel questioned while he pointed at the information on the paper.

"I don't know. I don't know when the old man died, do you?" Bobby felt frustrated. "You could be right, you probably are, but there has to be more to this shit than what we see here. There has to be more papers buried in this mess that tie into these." Bobby looked at the trash bags on the bed and laughed. "You get to work on these little brother." He turned back to Angel and grinned.

Angel's eyes narrowed. "I ain't doing this shit on my own."

"You're the expert in cons man, this is you're kind of shit." Bobby shook his head. "I wouldn't know what the fuck to look for." He cocked his thumb in Jeremiah's direction. "Jerr' will help."

"Bobby, we need more than two of us going through this shit or we'll be here all night." Jeremiah cried out.

"I think I have it." Sofi spoke up from the other side of the room.

All eyes turned to Sofi, who was poking two fingers into the front of the rabbit. "I feel something."

"Give me that." Bobby stepped to Sofi, holding his hand out.

Sofi didn't argue. She pulled her fingers free and handed the stuffed animal over to him, but she did mutter a few choice words under her breath in Spanish. Bobby heard her but was too worried about what was in the rabbit to pay much attention.

Jack stood and moved to Bobby's side and Craig straightened up on the bed, leaning forward to see what was going to come out of the rabbit.

Angel stepped closer. "What is it?'

Bobby's fingers clasped onto a piece of rolled up paper. He carefully slid it through the slit Sofi had opened up in the front of the rabbit. The paper was wrapped around a thin metal object. Bobby held the rabbit back towards Sofi, "You can sew that back up?" He didn't pull his gaze from the object in his hands.

Sofi took the rabbit and moved away.

"What is it?" Jack reached for the paper.

Bobby pulled his hands out of Jack's reach and let the odd looking key slip into the palm of his hands, "A key." He answered, not looking up from the brass object laying there in front of him. It was flat, and wasn't cut like a normal key, it resembled the type of key you'd expect for a safety deposit box, but felt too thin. How the hell could something so small be so important that Harris was willing to rip the Mercer family apart?

"What about the paper, is there anything written on it?" Angel stepped a little closer.

Bobby let his fist close around the key and turned his attention to the paper it had been wrapped in. "I can't make this out, it's all faded and shit." He muttered. He felt his eyes squint as he focused on the blurry blue ink on yellowed paper.

Jack leaned in closer to look at the paper. "It's not faded." He shook his head and looked directly at Bobby. "Hell, you can't read that?"

Angel started laughing. "You know, they say your vision is the first thing to go when you get old. The next thing to go will be…."

"I ain't old." Bobby spoke quickly before Angle could finish his insult. He didn't like it when his brothers pointed out he was getting older, and he felt his face turning hot. "I can see just fine, this ink is faded." He reached out with the fist that was holding the key and gave Jack a punch in the arm. "You think you can make this shit out, well then be my guest sweetheart."

Jack didn't react much to the punch; he just smirked at Bobby and took the paper from him. He fingered the yellowed edges and held it closer to his eyes than Bobby had. "It's a bunch of numbers." He gave his shoulder a shrug. "This looks like an address at the bottom."

"What does' it say 'dick breath'." Bobby was getting impatient.

"I just told you, it's a bunch of numbers." Jack snapped back the words, matching Bobby's tone. "

Bobby realized Craig was now standing next to Jack, staring at the paper. His eyes were wide, and he looked confused. He frowned at Jack and gave his head a nod in Craig's direction.

Jack looked at Craig, holding the paper up so that the boy could see it clearly. "You know what that is?"

"It's a secret." Craig muttered.

Bobby glanced over at Angel and Jeremiah before fully turning attention to Craig. "What kind of secret?" He tried to figure out how Craig could know what the paper was, but then he remembered the kid had been carrying the fucking rabbit around for years. He'd had it before he was a foster kid. He may have seen the paper before it was ever put into the rabbit. It would make sense that he would have seen in, maybe even knew what it was before it was ever hidden in his toy.

"He wrote it down so Mom would have it when she needed it." Craig looked at Bobby. "I remember he talked to her about it a lot when we were at his house."

Bobby held his breath. The kid was losing him with his words. "Who gave it to her?"

"I don't know; a guy." Craig's voice sounded small. "It's all mixed up. I dream about it sometimes. He gave me the rabbit after he buried something in the dirt. I helped him fill in the hole. I thought it was fun, playing with the dirt. I remember that. We were under one of the apple trees."

Bobby wondered for a moment if the medicine Craig had taken earlier was clouding his mind; or maybe the kid had gone for too long without having his medicine and now his brain was confused. What the hell was he talking about? "What did you bury in the dirt?" He kept his voice quiet and calm. He was trying to pick out what part of the kid's story could be real, if any of it, and what could be made up by his imagination.

Craig looked down at the floor, his forehead wrinkled slightly as he concentrated. He was trying to think, to come up with an answer to Bobby's question, so the man gave him some time to think. He didn't want to push too hard, but they were running out of time. They had wasted half of the night trying to get answers about a stupid stuffed animal, the secrets that were hidden inside of it, and why Winston was so fucking set on getting his hands on it.

Craig didn't look up from the floor, but he drew in a breath that seemed to shudder deep in his chest. "Mom said it was the only way we would ever be free of Adam Macks and the old man." That didn't answer the question, but Bobby could sense he wasn't going to get an answer.

"What old man?" Jeremiah leaned forward from his seat on the bed, looking as confused as Bobby felt.

"He don't remember anything Bobby." Angel spoke quietly. "He's trying to remember and his mind is making shit up on him."

Craig looked at Angel. "I'm not lying." He spoke quickly. His voice shook and Bobby thought his pride had been injured by Angel's words.

"No one said you was lying, but your mind is trying to find answers and it's making shit up on you Craig. It's normal. You're trying too hard." Angle spoke calmly. "Just relax. You had this rabbit with you for a long time, right?"

"All my life, it seems like." Craig muttered. "But I know what I remember. I dream about it sometimes, they're good dreams."

"Wait a minute." Jeremiah grabbed the papers back from Angel. "What was that place you said before? Something Orchards, right?"

"Sunshine Orchards, about an hour's drive from here I'd guess. Why?" Angel scowled at Jeremiah as he handed the paper over to him.

"Craig just said something about apple trees, didn't he? What kind of orchards do you think that place might have?" Jeremiah found the page and started reading it, jabbing his finger at it while he silently went over the print.

"Is there an address listed on that paper?" Jack asked while he looked down at the paper in his own hand.

Jeremiah quickly read off an address.

Jack looked at Bobby, "That's this." He held the paper out. "It's the same address." He pointed to the bottom portion of the paper, to what Bobby could swear was blurred and faded.

Bobby took the paper from Jack and looked at Jeremiah. "Okay, so let's find out exactly where this place is and go check it out."

"You gotta be shittin' me. You want to go find this place now?" Jeremiah cried out.

"We ain't got much time Jerr'. We gotta figure this shit out tonight, before Jack goes into that courtroom. We gotta walk into that courthouse with evidence that Harris is dirty, and that he is trying to set us up." Bobby rolled the key back up into the paper and carefully stuffed it into his pants pocket.

"And you think anything we get will count for shit?" Angel looked at Bobby. "Man, we broke into the man's room to get these papers; they ain't good for nothin' in court."

"But whatever they lead us to will be." Bobby narrowed his gaze on Jeremiah. "Why don't you go check on your wife and daughters Jerr'? We'll take care of this and meet up with you at the house in a few hours." He spoke calmly. "We don't need you to ride out there with us; we got Jack's hotrod so we got something close enough to a car." He managed one of his best smirks.

Jeremiah sighed and shook his head. "I done told you I'm with you on this. This is my business too Bobby…." He started to argue.

"You got other business to take care of. You make sure things are straight with your wife." Bobby cut in, interrupting Jeremiah's argument.

Jerry stared at him for a long moment. "If I do, will you let me take Craig with me? You have no idea what the hell you're walking into. You don't' need to be dragging him around in the middle of the night."

Bobby considered Jeremiah's words. He had a point. They didn't know if any of Winston's men were going to meet up with them once they arrived at this orchard. But part of him wanted to keep the kid close to him. What if Craig wasn't imagining anything, what if the dreams he spoke about were actually memories and not just his mind making shit up? Whether Bobby Mercer wanted to face the truth or not, it was staring him right in the face. Jessup Winston, Jesse Nicholas, whoever the hell he was, had a connection to Craig in more ways than just his business dealings with Adam Macks. No one had actually spoken it out loud or questioned Craig for further details because they weren't sure how he could possibly answer them. He didn't remember enough, that was obvious and what he did remember didn't make all that much sense. Bobby had to figure it out and Craig had to be there in order for him to do that. Maybe something would look familiar. Craig had mentioned apple trees, that meant he may have been at this orchard before, and if he had, maybe seeing it would bring some kind of clarity to his memories.

"No, Jerr', Craig comes with us. You can make sure Sofi get's home safe though, I'd appreciate that." Angel spoke up while Bobby was still thinking about the reasons Craig had to go with them.

"But he's already been through enough." Jeremiah stood slowly from his seat on the bed.

"He'll be fine, he'll be with us." Jack spoke that time. Bobby turned and looked at him. He met Bobby's gaze, there was an emotion there that Bobby wasn't sure of; hope, maybe? Jack was starting to think he might actually be able to clear himself and get out of the trouble he was in. Hell, he should know by now it all was a part of being a Mercer.

Bobby let his attention shift to Craig. The kid was looking up at him, apparently expecting Bobby to send him off with Jeremiah. His expression was the exact opposite of Jacks, the kid felt hopeless. "He's going with us." Bobby looked back at Jerry. "Don't worry I would never let him in the middle of too much trouble. You should trust me."

Jeremiah started gathering his things together, apparently too tired to argue any further. "I got Craig's other clothes in my bag. I'll take his pills with me too so they don't get lost." He picked up the bag that had once held his spare clothes. "I'll call Green and let him know what's going on. There's no telling how much longer he's gonna be able to hold Harris, you know that." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"But Harris ain't gonna have any idea where we are. They haven't caught onto anything yet, so we're safe as far as Harris goes." Angel commented. "He has no idea that we know what's going on."

"That isn't going to last long, as soon as they realize whoever they sent in to steal that rabbit has lost it." Sofi spoke, but her words sounded garbled.

Bobby had almost forgotten Sofi was in the room, it was unlike her to stay quiet for as long as she had. He took in the sight of her using her teeth to cut a length of thread close to the stuffed animal's belly. "You get your shit together too sweetheart, you're out of here."

Sofi held the rabbit up, "As good as new." She turned to Craig and stepped up to him. "You see; nothing at all to be worried about." She sounded gentle and that thought sent shivers down Bobby's back. He knew there had to be a softer side to the crazy bitch, but he hated seeing it, it made it a little harder to start shit with her when she showed that side.

Craig took the toy from Sofi. "Thanks." He looked up at her.

Bobby moved to sit next to Craig while Sofi pulled on her coat and moved around the room to collect her belongings. Everyone seemed too quiet while Jerry and Sofi prepared to leave. Jack moved to the window and pulled out his cigarettes while Angle helped Sofi and walked her to the door. The pack looked as if it had been run through a washing machine, flat and wrinkled. Bobby wondered if his brother would give in and buy another pack the first chance he got. He hoped not, but he knew that no matter what he said Jack would do what he wanted. He started to make a remark about Jack waiting until they were out of the hotel for him to have a smoke, but hell; he figured Jack earned one little self indulgence at the moment. He'd done damn good, going into Winston's room like he had. Bobby knew he had to be scared shitless, but he did it anyway.

Jeremiah and Sofi walked out and Angel closed the door after them. He turned and looked at Bobby. "So what the hell are we waiting for? Let's get of here."


	32. Chapter 32

As always, I do not own, nor do I profit in any way from this work of fiction. (unless you count the reviews, which I appreciate more than you will ever know)

Thanks all for reading!

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**Chapter 32: What Next?**

Jessup Winston walked slowly through his suite, moving from window to window, from the front room to the attached bedroom and back again. He had turned down all of his lights so that they were nothing but a dull yellow glow along the walls. He didn't want the light, he didn't want any sound. He only wanted to think. Thinking meant pacing, and that's what he was doing. He had to figure out what the hell had happened that night that had brought the Mercers to his room. He hadn't wanted trouble with the Mercers, but Harris had been so sure of how he was handling the situation that he hadn't felt compelled to argue.

Winston had insisted that the kid not be messed with, and Harris had not argued about that part, but he could now see that Harris was not a man that could be trusted to do what he was told. Harris was smart and knew what he was doing; he thought he was smarter than the man paying him though, and that was a problem. Harris didn't want to lose his cut of the wealth that was going to land in their laps and he would stop at nothing to ensure his success in this project. Maybe he was willing to go too far. Perhaps he was traveling down the same road Adam Macks had taken and setting goals for himself rather than concentrating on the goals set before him by the man who signed his checks.

Perhaps the fact that the signature had changed had rattled Harris in some way. He was still the man who had the final say in his business, no matter what name he was using. Had changing his name changed him in some way? He had wanted to hide his past behind the new name, but deep down he would always be the same man. No, the name had nothing to do with it, he had been floundering for months. He had let Harris have too much control in the past few weeks, well before the explosion that was meant to end his life. He had been aware that he was giving up too much control, allowing his own decisions to be over ridden, but he wanted out of the business and Harris knew that. As Jessup Winston paced the floors, moving from window to window, he reminded himself that no matter whom Jesse Nicholas might end up being eventually, deep down inside he was still Jessup Winston, and he had to think for himself, just as he had for so many years before he'd hired Harris. He had to make sure his orders were followed and his decisions were final. No matter how good Harris was, he had to be reminded who the hell was boss. He just wasn't sure how he had let Harris get out of control.

Maybe it was because he had been so shaken by his near miss with Macks, but while he considered that a possibility he knew Macks was the very reason he needed to be more guarded about his affairs with Harris. He had let Macks spin out of control, and had actually enjoyed watching the stupid idiot drive himself to his own death; but it had been more than Macks, he had lost a grip on other aspects of his business. Macks should have been a lesson for him but instead he had turned around and given Harris too much lead, allowed the government man to have too much say in how his affairs were handled. He had trusted him with too much information, something that would have sent his father into a rage if he were alive and aware of what was taking place. He had lost control over his own dealings and he needed to take control back, before Harris fucked them both over and caused them to lose everything.

Harris had messed with the kid. That was a fact that he wasn't going to try to reason away in his brain. He had specifically told Harris not to mess with the boy, not to cause any permanent damage to the Mercers in any way. Bobby Mercer would never have shown up at his door if Harris had followed his orders. What was more puzzling was exactly how Bobby Mercer had found out where he was and what name he was going by. Another puzzle to figure out was why Harris was being held by local authorities. He was FBI; the local cops had to have something on him in order to hold him. Just what the hell had the fool done? He was going to screw it all up, he could feel it.

His mind seemed to be turning from one train of thought to another, from Harris to Macks to Mercers, to the kid. He needed to fill the time by doing something more constructive while he waited for the Mercers to come back with the key. Once he had that key the rest would fall into place and he would finally be able to reclaim what he'd lost so many years earlier. He would never have to worry about his business again; he could cut his ties to the life his father had dragged him into and have a real life. If only he'd made his move sooner. She had begged him to put his plan into action so that the two of them could be together, but he had put it off, wanting to build up more trust with his father. To be truthful, he'd always hoped he wouldn't have to resort to his final plan of action. He had always expected his father to release him from the family business without the need of deception, but it had never happened. By the time he realized he was truly trapped, it was too late. Macks had cracked completed, and he had taken away the only person who could have saved Jessup Winston from the life his father was sucking him into.

Winston shook his head in an attempt to scatter the thoughts and concentrate on what he needed to do. He turned and looked at the phone he'd left laying on the table in front of the sofa. He needed to call the two fools down the hall. He still couldn't figure out why they had come there. They had a hotel room of their own, and the idea that they were jeopardizing everything by someone connecting them to him irritated him. Obviously the Mercers were already aware of the connection, but how much did he cops know? What about contacts on the other side of the law? If the wrong people knew that Jessup Winston was actually alive and well his whole plan was shot to hell. He would have to worry about keeping Jesse Nicholas alive if certain 'business associates' knew Jessup Winston had not died in the fire at Jeremiah Mercer's warehouse.

Before he had the chance to walk to the phone and make the call to William and James a light tapping on his door drew his attention. It was a quiet knock, one that he probably would have missed completely had he been listening to music or watching television. He sighed; it was about time his employees finally grew the balls to report to him. He stepped towards the door, and as he did, he wondered if perhaps it was Bobby Mercer at his door, ready to deal with him. He would definitely do Mercer right, hell, he probably owed him. He wasn't sure exactly what Harris had done. He only knew what the Mercers had told him and he was sure there was more to the whole mess.

He didn't bother to look through the peep hole in the door to check on who was knocking, it wasn't as if many people knew he was alive and he was expecting his own men, and the Mercers. He pulled the door open with no hesitation and froze.

The man standing at the door looked at him, a mixture of fear and astonishment on his face. "Winston?"

Jessup Winston reached out, grabbed the man's coat lapel and drew him into the room quickly. He knew he shut the door too hard but he was close to a panic. The palms of his hands started sweating instantly and he felt his chest tighten up. He stared at Nicholas Peters for a long moment. "What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked, his voice coming out hoarse and husky.

"I was looking for Harris. You are supposed to be dead." Peters looked worried. "What the hell is going on?"

Winston pointed to the sofa. "Sit your ass down and explain to me what the hell you are doing here? Don't ask questions, answer them." He made sure to use the tone of voice that always motivated people to listen to him. He kept an edge to it, but it came out smooth and quiet.

Peters seemed to be thinking as he moved to sit as instructed. "I was bringing the package to Harris. He was supposed to meet me, but I couldn't get him on his phone, and I…" He was rambling. Winston recognized the fear and confusion in his voice.

"What package?" Winston hovered over the man, studying his face for any sign that he was lying as he spoke.

Peters stared at him as if the answer to his question should have been obvious. "The package, I got it, just like Harris told me, and I left the papers at the Mercer house too." His voice trembled now. "Harris said you were dead. He said the only way he could come through on the deal was to help him with the Mercers. What kind of game are you playing with me Winston? I've done everything you asked me, and still you threaten to leave me hanging for everything? You had to send your government man to deal with me; you didn't have the guts to face me yourself."

"I never sent Harris to you." Winston shook his head. "Now calm down and start at the beginning. I need to know what the hell has been going on." He forced his own voice to flow quietly, calmly across the room. He walked over to the bar, "Would you like a drink Peters? I believe we could both use a good, strong drink right now." As he reached for a bottle of the best liquor he had available his eyes flicked to the view outside the window at the well-lit front lot below.

He was sure he could make out Bobby Mercer walking across the drive, towards the parking area. He felt his identification of Bobby Mercer had been validated when he seen a second man that looked like Angel Mercer walking with him. As he leaned closer to the window, his eyes adjusted better to the view. He could see Bobby had his arm around someone smaller and his stomach jumped as his mind recognized it to be Craig Mercer.

Emotions tried to stir deep inside him that he had kept buried for years. It took a long moment for him to notice the tall young man walking in front of them all. It was late, and he was ten stories up, but if he didn't know better, he could have swore the fourth figure taking long strides resembled the same son of a bitch who had been in his suite a short time before, working on his thermostat.

That was when he realized he'd been played. Shit, he was an idiot! He had opened his door and let Jack Mercer walk right into his territory. It had to be Jack Mercer; he was the only Mercer brother Winston had never laid eyes on. His eyes squinted and he tried to focus. What the hell were they carrying in their hands? Trash bags?

Winston's mind reeled as he realized what the hell had happened. He thought about the sassy, crazy bitch who had been in that room with Jack Mercer, she'd had changed the trash bags and he'd been so pre-occupied he hadn't paid enough attention to what was going on around him. He spun around scanned the room, he'd been careless and left too many papers, important documents, lying out in the open; it wasn't as if he had been worried about being found, and he sure as hell didn't expect the Mercers to send anyone into his room. He looked at Peters, trying to remember why the man was in his room. He'd said he was delivering a package to Harris. "What the hell were you bringing to Harris?" He asked the question while he moved to the light switch to turn up all the lights at once.

Peters blinked against the brightness. He looked as if he had been shaken out of a thought of some kind. "Uh, well I don't have it now, it, well, it's complicated." Now he looked worried.

"What the hell was it Peters?" Winston started going through the papers spread out on the bar and he was only half listening to the man really. He was more worried about what the Mercers had managed to get their hands on; he found part of the critical papers. The documents that could make or break him for the rest of his life were gone, although he was sure they would never be able to figure any of it at least he prayed they wouldn't. They couldn't make the connection, could they? No. There was no way to connect him to that area, or any one in particular from that time.

"…that damn stuffed rabbit, and the kid just grabbed it and ran. I started to follow him, but then the Mercers were coming up the hall, and I just jumped in the elevator until it was clear." Peters' words hit Winston's brain like a jolt of electricity.

"You had the rabbit?" Winston spoke quietly. "And what exactly happened to it?" He had missed most of Peters' story and needed it repeated.

"When I got to the room, Craig Mercer was there and he took the rabbit from me before I knew what the hell was going on." Peters stood. "And then the rest of the Mercers came up the hall and I had to stay out of sight until they were gone." His voice trembled. "I wandered around for a bit, trying to figure out what the hell I should do. Even if I had caught up to the kid I never could have hurt him, I'm sorry. You want to kill me for that well then go right ahead."

Winston shook his head, hell Peters thought he was a dead man because he couldn't hurt the kid? "Go home Peters. Go home and if Harris calls you again, you don't answer. Stay out of this. Just, go home and live your life."

Peters gave his head a quick jostle, as if he couldn't quite figure out what Winston was saying to him. "But, I did what Harris told me to. I planted the false documents, right where he told me, what about our deal?"

"The deal is off. Whatever he offered you, he was never going to deliver, take my word on that. I will do my best to make sure you are taken care of when the time comes, but Harris will screw you over. You got that? You keep clear of him. If he approaches you again, you let me know." Winston wanted to scream at the man, but he knew it was Harris that had brought all of this down on him, not Peters.

Peters may have been threatened; he was definitely lied to. None of that mattered at the moment though, there was too much that needed to be dealt with now. His immediate problem was his future had suddenly ended up in the hands of Bobby Mercer.

Peters started to speak, but turned towards the door instead. "How am I supposed to contact you? I don't have a phone number." His voice still trembled, but it was obvious he was trying to conceal it.

"I'll call you." Winston's brain was already thinking about the papers the Mercers had managed to snag from his room. He watched Peters walk out the door, praying the man did what he told him. He should have threatened him, gone into a long speech about how it would be beneficial to his health that he do what he was told, but he didn't have the time, not now; and to be honest he just didn't have the heart for it. He was so tired of living the life his father had created and trapped him in. He wanted his own life.

Winston moved to the coffee table and checked the papers there; they all seemed to be there. He remembered the desk in the adjacent room. He had left more personal items there. But he'd been right there, watching that woman, and he was sure she hadn't gone near the desk. Still, his heart started racing. He walked quickly to the other room; his footsteps matched his pulse, pounding the same rhythm out on the floor. He stared at the desk, no papers and no pictures. Shit, so much for Bobby Mercer not being able to connect him to the past. The night just went from bad to Jessup Winston being totally fucked. What the hell was going to happen next to screw around with his plans?

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Craig watched while his brother consolidated all of the confiscated papers into one trash bag. Jack had a stack that he'd managed to smuggle out of the room that was added to the bag. Jack gave Bobby back his shirt before he put on his coat. Bobby handed Craig his coat and told him to put it on.

Not much else was said in the following minutes. The men seemed to be operating on automatic, or maybe they were reading each other's minds like they seemed to do so often. Craig watched Angel pull out his cell phone and make a call. Bobby stood next to him and watched, as if he knew who he was calling and why, but not a word had been spoken. Jack made Craig stand so he could strip a blanket off of the bed. He rolled it up rather than folding it, and stuffed it, along with a pillow into one of the empty trash bags.

Angel pulled the phone away for just a moment and looked at Bobby, "Johnny G. says he'll see what else he can get on Winston." He nodded just enough to make out the motion. "It would be nice if one of us could help him out though."

"What we need is another car." Bobby nodded his head slowly, "Something that fucking runs and has heat."

"My car has heat." Jack muttered.

"It ain't your car." Bobby looked over. "Jesus Jack, what the hell do you see in that piece of shit anyway?"

"I don't know." Jack shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I can see potential, that's all. It just needs some loving care."

"If that ain't the most fucking gay thing I've heard all week…" Bobby shook his head and looked at Craig. "Get the coat on." He had that hard sound in his voice that Craig recognized. "You remember how this works kid; you do what the hell I say, when I say. No questions. We don't know what the hell we're going to find when we get to this place and I ain't gonna have time to worry about you. You got that?"

Craig pulled on the coat he'd been holding in his hands without saying a word.

Bobby turned back to Angel, "We can drop you off at Johnny's? "

Angel nodded his head again and returned his attention to the phone. "Yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes and we can see what we can do." Angel finished his phone call quickly, hung up and gave Bobby a nod.

It seemed they were out of the room too quick. The television was left on; the key cards were left lying on the table in between the beds. Craig didn't have a chance to look back at the room before Bobby closed the door behind them. Jack and Angel each carried a trash bag and Bobby slid an arm around Craig, pulling him close. "You show me the stairwell that you went down." He instructed.

"Aren't we going to take the elevator?" Craig asked.

"Don't want to run into anyone." Bobby answered.

Craig wanted to ask who would be in the halls at that time of night, but he didn't. He pointed the way down the hall and around the corner. "There's an alarm on the door to the lobby." He spoke quietly.

"Not a problem." Angel looked at him and flashed a smile.

Not another word was spoken while they made their way down the stairwell. When they got to the bottom Angel leaned over the push bar and managed to pop the front cover off. He pulled on a few wires, put the cover back in place and pushed it open silently.

The lobby wasn't empty this time; the older man that had checked them in was obviously pissed with a younger employee. The younger man was shaking his head and pointing to the computer screen, whatever was being said kept them occupied and neither man noticed the four figures emerge from the stairwell, walk across the lobby and out main doors.

Craig felt himself pulling closer to Bobby when they stepped into the cold air and in response Bobby's hold on him tightened. Maybe Bobby could sense that it was more than the cold that sent the shivers down Craig's back. He suddenly felt exposed, and didn't like it. They were back out in the open, where anyone could see them. Anyone could see them and come for them. There was no hiding, and with the ice under their feet there was no running for cover.

When they reached the car Bobby took the trash bag from Jack and emptied the pillow and blanket into the back seat. He looked at Craig. "Give me my coat, climb in and hunker down. You're takin' a fucking nap, one way or another." He let the bag drop to the ice and helped Craig slide his arms out of the leather coat before turning him and directing him into the back seat.

Bobby pulled on his coat and then climbed into the back seat as well, an act that earned him wide eyes stares from all three of his brothers.

Craig didn't argue when Bobby put the pillow on his lap. He lay down and pulled the blanket around him to block out the cold. He pulled his feet up into the seat, barely able to squeeze his whole body into the tight space. He knew when he got out of the car later his whole body would feel cramped and knotted up.

Jack and Angel climbed into the front, with Jack behind the wheel. After several tries the engine started chugging in a slow, sluggish rhythm that seemed to rock the car forward and back.

"Damn piece of shit." Bobby murmured.

"It just needs to warm up." Jack fed the engine a little gas, and it died. "Shit." He played with the key a few more times before the slow chugging started again.

"How long for it to warm up, we are on a time table here Jackie Poo?" Angel spoke. "This is why we need another ride, this car ain't never gonna get that far."

Craig closed his eyes and listened to the familiar sound of a fist pounding on the dash just before the fan squealed to life blowing ice cold air. His mind started shutting out the argument taking place between his brothers and he fell asleep just as that burning rubber stench stung at his nose, obviously it was coming from the heater. He barely remembered pulling the blanket up over his face to block out the smell.

It seemed the dreams started as soon as he was asleep. Dreams with Evelyn Mercer and Lydia Macks melded together, their voices rambled on, both at the same time. Pictures from different times in his life flashed in front of him, like pages in a picture book, flipping randomly. Some of the pictures were good, some were frightening. He wasn't living the moments, like he usually did in his dreams; he was standing back, watching, and thinking about what it meant.

First he was listening to his mother, talking quietly to her friend, the man who was supposed to keep them safe, and then Adam was there at the little house with the apple trees outside the windows. They were going back to his father, to the hell that he always sucked them into and Craig didn't understand why. Why would his mother make him go back if she loved him? Why would she want to go back to the life they had with Adam, when the life they had with her friend was so much better for both of them?

Then he was watching Evelyn Mercer's casket being lowered into the ground, wondering what was going to happen to him next, where he would end up and if it would be with Adam or another foster family. He was sure that his adoptive brothers wouldn't want him around, they didn't like him. They had never liked him. He remembered the day his adoption had become final and how none of his brothers had been there for cake and ice cream. They hadn't wanted him and they had never lied about that fact.

Then Jordan was there, in the dark. He couldn't see anything but an opaque emptiness in front of him, but he could still sense Jordan, and it made him feel ill deep down to his soul. The pictures were coming faster now, running together in such a blur he could barely make them out; his mother, Lydia, handing him a toy rabbit, and telling him to keep it safe. Adam again, and that sick feeling that always emanated from him; Evelyn lighting candles on his first birthday cake, the sun shining brightly under the apple tree while he helped the faceless man pack dirt into a hole; and then Bobby, grabbing him as he slipped over the edge of the dock, the fire in his eyes when Craig looked up and seen his face. Jack lying on top of him, bleeding and screaming Bobby's name to the rhythm of thousands of bullets splintering the only real home Craig had ever known.

"Bobby!" Craig shot up, reaching out for his brother only to find air.


	33. Chapter 33

I hope you enjoy :)

As always, I do not own and make no money! Well, there are a few characters that are mine...

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**Chapter 33: Country Roads**

Jessup Winston stood in the lobby of the hotel, his cell phone firmly pressing against his ear. He had tried to phone William and James several times already, and kept getting voicemail for both of them. He knew where Harris was sitting at that moment, and he was sure that the other two men were in the same situation, but he was hoping beyond hope that they had somehow been spared the same fate as Harris. With each attempt to reach them, his hopes were quickly falling.

He had called down to the lobby ten minutes earlier to have his car brought around for him. He'd thought that it would be waiting for him by the time he managed to dress and get downstairs, but of course it was he who was now waiting. He would have to handle the mess with the Mercers himself, that was obvious. His men, all three of them were obviously being detained by Green, and he had no one else in Detroit that he could trust at the moment. That was one of the downfalls of faking your own death. He couldn't risk revealing himself to the people he did trust, for fear word would get back to the people he feared. A lot of people would be pissed if they knew what he had been planning, especially once they realized he'd been planning it for years.

His father's business, therefore his contacts, rivals disguised as friends, had fallen into his lap, not by choice. If he hadn't taken over, there would have been war, and it wouldn't have ended well for anyone, especially for him. It wasn't a business you just stepped away from. His father had sucked him deep into his affairs, and there had been no way out once his father had control. It was even worse after the old man was dead.

The only positive aspect of his situation at the moment was that only one other person besides himself could figure out where the Mercers were going to be headed next, and that other person, Harris, was sitting tight with Detroit P.D.. His best advantage was that the Mercers would only know one way in and one way out; they would take the highway. He knew another route, he knew the area, and he wasn't trying to track down his destination the way they were. For him, he was headed home, finally, after all these years. His plans were coming full circle.

His car came into view through the lobby windows. He was going to be driving back to a place he'd abandoned years ago; back to the hopes he'd given up on when the only person in the world he could trust was lost to him forever. His heart twisted slightly as he thought about her; the only person in the world who had understood him, and could relate to him. They had been so careful, keeping their secrets. They had managed to fool the old man, allowing him to direct their lives as if they were puppets, all the while they were taking care of each other, making sure they could both break free. Damn Macks. That was the only thing he hadn't counted on, the crazy son of a bitch Lydia had taken up with. It wasn't her fault. She'd been trying to survive, and had been tangled up with the asshole before she ever heard the name of Jessup Winston.

Winston marched out of the lobby as he snapped his cell phone closed. He got into the car, trying to drive his memories out of his head. Jessup Winston had been an only child, but Jesse Nicholas had a sister. A sister his father had never told him about. A sister who had runaway and been dragged back too many times to count. Jessup found out about Lydia by accident. The old man had already taken over his business, had sucked him into the life his mother had tried to save him from, but he had never mentioned Lydia. Lydia's mother was dead, and Winston didn't want to know the particulars of that, he was afraid to know. Lydia had never shared what she knew, though she knew plenty, he could tell.

Lydia had hidden away in drugs, and had let Macks keep her there because she had no other place to hide. Jessup found out about her, and revealed his self to her as a spark of hope. He had worked out a way to dig out from under his father, and the legacy the old man was trying to bury him under, and he'd promised to save her as well. He'd gotten her to clean up, and that had been a challenge in its self.

He'd managed to get her away from Macks, only to have the old man push her right back at him, his abuse and his drugs, wiping away any progress Jessup had managed. Keeping her trapped in the drugs was the only way he could control her. The cold hearted bastard didn't care about his daughter, and he sure as hell didn't care about his grandson. Jessup realized then that his father could never care about him, not the way a father should care. Sure, he had claimed to love his children, but the man had no love in him; he liked to think he owned anything he touched, including his children. He had plans for Lydia, and they weren't good plans. Once Jessup could see that, he understood the trap that he'd fallen into. His only hope, Lydia's only hope, was to disappear, to vanish, and cut all ties to their father.

His mind continued to ponder his past while he also tried to concentrate on the drive out of the city. The streets were slick and icy, and it had been a long time since he'd had to navigate the route himself. He had been out to the orchards, but he always had someone to drive him before. His driver would sit in the car while he walked around the orchards, lost in the past, replaying the plans in his mind, remembering how happy Lydia had been there, and how promising their future had been, at least for a short time. The only problem at the time was he had lost the key, and the paper with the combination. He'd thought they were gone forever until Macks confessed his interest in the Mercers was based on the youngest of them. Craig. He hadn't known until then where Lydia's son had ended up. He'd looked for him, but to be honest, he hadn't put a lot of resources into the search. The kid was free, away from his past, clear of Macks, or so he thought. He thought it was for the best. Why dwell on what was lost if the kid was free? He didn't think Macks would go to the extremes he did, he didn't think he'd get his hands on the boy, but he did.

Once Macks got his claws into the kid, Winston couldn't help but wonder if the rabbit still existed. He'd given up hope, he'd figured there was no chance, but now, if the boy still had that toy, then there was millions of dollars worth of diamonds locked up in a bank, just waiting for him to liberate them, and start his new life. it had taken a lot of effort, laundering his father's dirty money, skimming from the profits and hiding them away in diamonds. He'd risked his life and his future. Harris had latched onto the idea as soon as Winston told him about it. His mistake was telling Harris anything. He'd thought he could trust him, he should have known better. He usually read people better. He should have seen Harris for what he was.

His first task at hand was getting the key and the paper from the Mercers. Then he would have to lay low until the ground thawed in the spring. Once he was able to dig, he'd find his tree, and dig up the lock box. Once he had the box, he'd have everything he needed to get his diamonds. They were clean. This was his new start, his chance for a clean future. No looking over his shoulder to see if someone was trying to kill him, now wondering who was planning to take him out so they could step up in his place. He, untracable, and legally his. He just had to make the Mercers understand how important it was that they give up the key, and the code.

He pushed the car as hard as he dared on the ice. He worried that somehow the Mercers would make it to the house before him. He would be cutting it close, he knew that. His route was shorter, and he knew it well, but the Mercer brothers had a head start. The night was silent, and once he left the city behind, it was dark, and still. Snow covered the ground, ice hung in the trees, and an eerie mist seemed to cote the air just above the snow, dancing between the trees as if it had a life of its own. It wasn't like him to notice things like that. But there was so much about his life lately that wasn't like him. The mist seemed to seep into his chest, filling him with a cold chill and a sudden uneasiness that he wasn't used to. His life was on the line tonight, not just his future, his life.

He found the back lane easy enough. He prayed he could get the car through the ice crusted snow that covered the rocky drive. This was the drive used during the harvest, when there was a harvest. The orchards hadn't been worked in years. He'd tried to keep the farm going, but he just didn't have the heart for it after Lydia died. Now it stood like a ghost of his past, reminding him how he'd let down his sister, and how they'd lost their future. He guided the car along, trying to stay on the gravel path that ran between the apple trees, keeping his speed slow as the back end of the luxury car shifted unannounced every few seconds. He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until he reached the back side of the barn and a long sigh released from his chest. He checked the buttons on his overcoat and slid on his gloves with the engine still running. He pulled the key free from the ignition before he thought to grab the gun from under the car seat. He reached into the glove box to snatch a small flashlight stored there. He got out of the car and tested his footing on the smooth crust of ice. He should put the car in the barn, he knew that, but it wasn't visible from the front of the house, or the main drive, and he didn't want to lose any time.

The ice crust broke under his feet as he made his way along the whitewashed wood fence that separated the yard and house from the orchards. He found the gate hanging open and frowned. He always made sure he secured it after him, but it may have been knocked loose during a storm. He moved around to the side porch and used his key to open the door. He hadn't been in the house since the last time he'd been there with Lydia. He always kept to the orchards when he visited. He had paid people to close up the house after Lydia had left with Adam, and he hadn't been inside since.

He stood in the open door for a long moment before he stepped into what had been the laundry room, and let his eyes adjust to the dark. He almost forgot about the flashlight in his left hand. It wasn't until his eyes had adjusted as well as they were going to and he still couldn't see that he fingered the flashlight with his gloved hand, finding the switch that sent light ahead of him. The condition of the house was almost a shock to him. He walked though the rooms, making his way from the front of the house to the kitchen. Flowered paper was peeling away from the walls; paint was separating from the trim in flakes. Years had deteriorated the plaster walls in places, and rust had eaten at metal hinges, bringing down some doors. He found what appeared to be the nest of a wild animal tucked away in the restroom cupboard. The uneasiness that had build in his chest as he drove out of the city seemed to intensify, taking on a hint of dread as he made his way along in the dark. It had been an older house to start with, and he'd let it fall into a sorry state. It was as if part of his soul was dying with this house. He made a mental note to put some money into it, to restore it back to its original state, as soon as he was finished with the business at hand. He would restore it and would never let it fall into ill repair again; he'd do that for Lydia, and for himself. Maybe it would help to ease his soul.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he heard the car engine choking and sputtering in the drive. One gunshot rang out, echoing through the dark house. The shot worried him for a second, until he remembered the gate that had been secured with a padlock. He switched off the flashlight and ducked into what had once been a library of sorts, just off the living room. He held his breath and waited. He tried to figure out how he was going to deal with Bobby Mercer, how he could possibly make the hard headed son of a bitch see reason. He wasn't only trying to save his ass, but the boy's as well. Maybe Bobby Mercer would see that.

* * *

Craig looked around the dark car. The engine was running but he was alone inside. The heater was still squealing and sputtering out that disgusting odor that reminded him of Bobby's cooking, but his breath still formed a mist in front of his eyes. He reached forward in the cramped back seat and used his hand to wipe frost from the passenger's side window. He recognized the back of Johnny's bar, and could see his brothers grouped together at the open door, talking to their friend. He sighed with relief that he wasn't really alone. He noticed Bobby glance back to the car and that helped him to relax a little more. Despite the fact that he knew Bobby couldn't actually see into the car, his brother hadn't forgotten about him. That's all that mattered at that moment.

He eased himself back down into the seat, on his left side. The pillow had found its way to the floor at some point, now he pulled it to him, rested his head on one corner of it and hugged onto the rest as if it could protect him somehow. He barely got settled back into the seat when Bobby and Jack returned to the car. Bobby sat up front this time, but he still let Jack drive with no arguing.

Bobby turned and looked at Craig. "You're supposed to be asleep." He kept his voice quiet.

"I woke up." Craig didn't feel like going into details about a dream that really hadn't felt like a nightmare to him. Okay, he'd been pulled awake by fear, his last memory of the dream was not pleasant, and his first reaction had been to reach out for Bobby, but it really hadn't been a nightmare, not the kind that he usually had.

"Well, go back to sleep. You look like shit." Bobby turned back to face the front before Craig could say anything else, but he glanced back after a few seconds.

Craig closed his eyes before Bobby could start in on him. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep again, but he did try. The effort of not thinking seemed to stir his brain around and resulted in him finding plenty to think about. He gave great attention to the events of the day, and what was happening now, at that very moment. He understood that what they found out that very night could be the difference in Jack going back to jail or not. He also knew that if Jack went to jail that meant his other brothers would probably be following him. Harris was set on tearing them up and Jack was like the pivot point. It was like everyone's fate depended on whether they could keep Jack out of jail. Harris had made his intentions all too clear, even to Craig.

What didn't make sense was the way Craig felt at that moment. His mind picked through the details, what his brothers had told him, and what he could piece together in his own head, and there was something he was missing. He felt as if he should have some kind of answer to a question that had never been asked. He reached for the rabbit that he'd tucked under his shirt at some point and he held onto it tight. For some reason, that rabbit still felt important, even though Bobby had already emptied its secret contents, he felt like his little friend still had something to tell him, and he had to make sure it was safe and close to him. His mind slipped away into its own thoughts, and he barely noticed the city moving past.

Craig cracked on eye open enough to look around. He let both eyes open all the way and watched to see if Bobby would look back at him, but at the moment Bobby was talking with Jack in a quiet voice. Every once in a while Craig heard Jessup Winston's name, and Harris, but with the noise from the engine and the heater the conversation in the front of the car was lost on the boy in the back. Bobby had forgotten about him though, or thought that he was asleep like he should have been. Craig looked down at the rabbit and mentally willed the toy to talk to him. The nagging feeling in his brain wouldn't let up. It was like a whisper that he could hear but couldn't understand.

The conversation in the front seat of the car had shifted from a fairly calm discussion about what they were doing to a more heated discussion about Jack driving too slowly. Bobby wanted his brother to speed up but Jack was arguing that the ice on the roads prevented him from going any faster.

"Then let me drive Jack, fuck, we're gonna be a couple of old ladies before you get us there." Bobby smacked at the space between the seats.

"You'll get us killed, you ain't driving." Jack kept his voice calm, though it felt tense.

"Just give it a little gas Jack?" Bobby sounded more irritated now.

The engine revved and the back end started to sway slightly.

"What the fuck Jack!" Bobby yelled just as the car jolted hard and then spun slightly. "Watch it!"

Craig reached out with one hand to grab the back of the driver's seat in an attempt to keep his self from falling to the floor. In the same moment Bobby's hands shot up to the dash as if bracing himself against some kind of impact. Craig felt his stuffed rabbit fall from his free hand, but he didn't have time to look for it in the dark. The car jolted again, this time towards the right. The motion would have pulled Craig down the seat towards the passenger's side of the car, if the car had been a normal car with full sized seats. Instead, the lack of space kept him wedged into the seat. His legs did stiffen though, instinctively trying to keep him secured in once spot.

The car jerked hard and stopped with no warning. The sudden stop was too much and Craig slid towards the floor. Jack's seat was close enough that his body didn't actually get all the way off the seat, but his legs did. Once the motion of the car had settled, Craig pulled his butt back into the seat, sitting stiffly against the cold vinyl back. He ended up dead center on the bench seat, his legs straddling the big hump that ran down the length of the car.

There was complete silence, not even the engine was running. Craig was afraid to move, but his eyes caught sight of his rabbit within reach. He snatched it up just as Bobby started counting quietly.

"One, two, three…" Bobby drew in a deep breath, but didn't continue his count, instead he turned and looked at Jack, who was gripping the steering wheel with both hands and staring straight ahead. "Fuck it, I ain't counting to ten." A low growl rumbled in his throat as he let out a long breath. "Great, Jack, this is all we need."

"You're the one who keeps telling me to hurry. The road is covered in ice; what did you think was going to happen?" Jack sounded irritated, but he didn't turn to look at Bobby.

"We need to get there in one piece, or it won't matter, now will it?" Bobby snapped.

"Fuck you." Jack's voice held the same sharpness to it as Bobby's. "And don't crack a gay joke either." He added quickly. "This is bullshit."

"What the hell is your problem? We're doing this shit for you little brother; you know that, don't you?" Bobby's face turned towards Jack, and his eyes flicked towards the back of the car. Craig hadn't tried to hide the fact that he was awake. If he had been asleep the sudden stop would have brought him to his full senses anyway. Besides, he was sitting there, in the middle of the seat.

Craig just met Bobby's gaze, not sure if he should try to say anything.

"You need to close your eyes and go back to sleep."Bobby probably didn't mean to sound pissed. In the dark interior of the car he looked as if he was ready to hit something. He quickly turned his attention back to Jack. "Let me drive." He reached for his door handle.

"Screw you Bobby. You ain't driving my car." Jack didn't yell, but his voice was strained. "I got this under control."

"You got this under control? We're in a fucking ditch Jack, is that your kind of control? Because it sure as hell ain't what I call control!" Bobby pushed his door opened. "Help me push us out 'Dick Weed'." He got out of the car and slammed the door hard.

The door popped back open, "Son of a bitch!" Bobby yelled and slammed the door again. His voice seemed to echo in the darkness that had engulfed the car. Craig wondered when it had gotten so dark. He hadn't paid any attention before, but as he leaned closer to the window on his right that there were no street lights around them. There were no other cars, no buildings, no sidewalks. There was no moon above, but he seemed surrounded by a ghostly blue glow. Surrounding them were fields blanketed in crusty, ice coated snow and seemed to radiate the blue. An illusion, he'd learned about it in Science class. Separating the fields were clusters of trees patch worked here and there with mist swaying in and out between the bare branches; swirling and bouncing back and forth from tree trunk to tree trunk, giving an eerie, static feeling to the air as it struggled against the freezing temperatures.

They were well out of the city, and Craig wasn't sure how far they had traveled, but he had obviously lost track of time. Had he been so absorbed in his thoughts that he'd lost that much time? Maybe he had managed to sleep after all and just didn't realize it.

Jack didn't move from his seat for a long minute. He was breathing hard, and looked as pissed as Bobby. He finally glanced back at Craig. "You know how to steer?" He asked while his fingers found the ignition key and gave it a turn. The motor whirred into action immediately and Jack looked as if he relaxed a little.

Craig shrugged his shoulders, and then realized Jack probably couldn't see the motion in the dark. "I don't know."

"Well I guess this is as good a time for you to learn as any, isn't it." Jack cracked a smile and Craig thought that he even winked at him. "Don't worry; it ain't as bad as my first time driving. You don 't need to worry about any cops chasing you down side streets out here in the middle of bum-fucked Egypt." He opened his door and motioned for Craig to get into the front of the car.

Craig didn't understand the words at first, but then realized what Jack was saying. "I can't drive!" He cried out.

"Yes you can. Come on, it's either you or Bobby, and right now I trust you a hell of a lot more."Jack got out of the car and waited for Craig to wiggle in between the seats.

Jack pointed to the gear shift and instructed Craig on how to put the transmission in reverse. "When I tell you to, give it some gas. Push the pedal about half way down, okay?"

Craig watched Jack slam the door shut and join Bobby at the front of the car, each at one headlight. He felt his stomach tighten up as he visualized himself screwing up and running over both men. How the hell would he explain something like that to anyone else?

Jack yelled at him to give it gas and Craig's foot automatically followed the instructions against his will as his eyes slammed shut. Bobby started yelling for him to turn the wheel to the left. Craig hands obeyed, but then Bobby yelled even louder. "Your other left!"

Craig realized he'd been turning the steering wheel to the right. He quickly spun it in the opposite direction and the car seemed to inch backwards slowly. He let his eyes open up and watched as Jack and Bobby both pushed on the front of the car. The car was moving backwards slowly for another couple of feet, but then stopped. Bobby yelled something about not stopping as he let go of the car and moved up the passenger's side. He opened the passenger door, but didn't get in. He used the door frame to push from his new position. "Give it more gas kid!" Bobby yelled out after a few more seconds.

Craig pushed the gas pedal down further and the sound of the tires spinning wildly filled the air. Another second later and the tread seemed to grip something, pulling the car all the way back onto the road, leaving Bobby and Jack behind. Craig's foot instinctively left the gas and hit the brake, jolting the car to a stop.

Jack let a whoop and was grinning wide. He gave Craig a thumbs-up and started walking towards the car. Craig felt a rush of something that wasn't familiar. He let his own smile spread across his face as he turned to look at Bobby, anticipating a similar look on his older brother's face.

Bobby was looking at him, his arms hanging down at his sides. His face and front were covered in brown slush and muck. Craig felt his smile fade away. He looked over at the passenger door, which Bobby had opened, to see the same substance had coated the interior of the door and the passenger seat. His brain pieced together what had happened easily. The car was rear wheel drive; it had thrown the ground muck; snow, ice and mud up when he'd given the car gas. That muck had sprayed Bobby full force from head to toe, coating him. It dripped slowly down his arms and off of his face.

Craig stared, unable to move until Jack opened the driver's door and gave him a nudge. "Put it in park kiddo." He spoke a seriously as Craig had ever heard him. "Get in the back seat."

Craig couldn't move, so Jack leaned in and put the car in park. "Go on, in the back." He gave Craig another nudge.

Craig looked at Jack and then slid in between the seats into the back of the car. He grabbed the blanket and hugged it around him while he groped around in the dark to locate his rabbit. He looked back at Bobby, who still hadn't moved. Jack got in behind the wheel and revved the engine. "Come on Bobby, let's go. We need to get there before the sun comes up, remember?"

Bobby's head turned slightly towards Jack's position in the car. Jack sighed and turned to look at Craig. "Don't worry, we're gonna have a lot of fun about this one." He smiled at him, breaking some of the tension that seemed to have filled the car. "I mean, come one, the Michigan Mauler is standing in the middle of a road, coated with mud, don't you think that's fucking hilarious?" He started to laugh.

Craig felt the tightness that had building in his chest break free slightly and managed to laugh a little bit.

Bobby started walking towards the car, slowly, mud sliding down his leather coat and dripping in globs at his feet with each step that he managed.

"Come on Bobby, hurry the hell up, we ain't got all night!" Jack turned to watch the man's advancement. "At least we're all in one piece, right?" He called out and glanced back at Craig, a chuckle still running through him.

Craig tried to fight down the laugh that escaped him just as Bobby climbed into the car and slammed the door hard. He expected Bobby to yell, or hit Jack, or do something, but instead he just pointed straight ahead. "Drive the damn car Jack."

Craig sat back in the seat and started to relax.

"Just keep it on the road, would you?" Bobby's voice was quiet, and calm, but as he turned to meet Jack's gaze Craig could see that his eyes were narrow slits and his mouth was almost forming a wild sneer.

"Wouldn't have left the road if I'd been driving at a reasonable speed," Jack muttered the words as if he was speaking to his self, but Craig knew he was directing the statement at Bobby despite the fact that he had focused his attention on the road and shifted the car into drive.

All was quiet from that point forward, except for the squealing that still persisted from behind the heater vents. Bobby wiped at his face as best as he could, but it was still spotted with mud when the car pulled onto a gravel drive and stopped close to an hour later. The sun was still hiding, but it was close to daybreak, with a bluish-grey hue starting to take hold of the trees lining the road. Craig squinted as he looked through the window. The white picket fence that lined the road gave way to an iron gate that hung across the drive. That nagging feeling he'd been struggling with earlier returned, like an itch in his brain. As he studied the fence, his attention was drawn to the little white house on the other side of it. There was a wood porch swing on one end of the porch, with one chain busted so that only one side dangled. The white paint that had once coated the grain of the wood was peeling away so that it looked old, and unloved.

Snow had drifted high enough that it covered the steps of the porch. An old tree towered close by and had been unkempt long enough that the branches had grown long enough to bust out two of the upstairs windows, probably during a good wind storm. The windows were dark, but it was easy to see there were no curtains. The house looked lonely, abandoned and deserted. Craig felt his heart twist hard. This house had been full of life at one time, and now it was alone in the cold, surrounded by the dark, blanketed by snow. It felt sad. A fear seemed to swell inside him that he couldn't explain. He groped around in the dark for the little blue rabbit, not sure where he'd left it this time, and not paying much attention to where it was when he found it. He kept his eyes fixed on the house, trying to process what he was seeing.

With no warning Bobby opened his door and got out of the car. He didn't bother to slam the door closed after him and the car quickly cooled from the lukewarm that it has been most of the drive. Craig barely noticed it though. His brain was swimming around with pictures of that same house on a warm, sunny day. Flowers colored the front yard and the smell of apple blossoms drifted on the breeze.

The sound of a gun blast startled the teen back to reality. He thought for a second that someone was shooting at them, but Jack didn't look concerned. He leaned forward to look through the gap between the front seats and realized Bobby had shot through a pad-lock that was holding a chain to secure the gate. Bobby gave the chain a quick tug through the ice coated bars and let it fall to the snow covering the drive; and then started slipping and sliding through the tire-rut caverns to push the gate open.

Jack waited for Bobby to get back into the car before slowly easing the car down the drive, "I don't like this." He muttered.

"What you got a problem with now?" Bobby cupped his hands and huffed into them in what appeared to be an attempt to warm them up.

"The tire tracks, they're fresh." Jack muttered, barely loud enough for Craig to hear him. He didn't give the car much gas, guiding it forward about fifty feet before stopping.

Bobby shook his head. "We know where the hell Winston and Harris both are at the moment. There ain't no cars in sight." He motioned to the emptiness that seemed to surround them. There was a barn straight in front of them, and the house directly to their right. "No footprints around." He shrugged his shoulders. "Those tracks are coated in ice; it's been days since anyone was here."

Jack looked at Bobby. "I just have a bad feeling about this." He muttered.

"Jeeze Jack, we're in the middle of bum fucked Egypt right now, there ain't a soul around. You show more fucking nerve on the streets, surrounded by drug dealers and gangsters. What the hell is wrong with you? Scared a bear is gonna come after you?" Bobby laughed and got out of the car. "Come on, let's check out the house."

"Bobby, someone could live here." Jack called out, but he turned the off the car engine and looked at Craig. "Come on, you can't stay out here alone." He didn't wait for Craig to respond before he got out of the car and followed Bobby.

Craig didn't want to give up his blanket, so he wrapped it around him tightly, stuffing the rabbit under his shirt. He got out of the car, barely thinking to close the door behind him as he followed his brothers towards the back of the house.

"No one is living here Jack. There's no sign of anyone walking around this house. Whoever left those tire tracks didn't even get out of the car. No one has been in this house for years." Bobby crunched though the ice and snow to the closed in porch on the back of the house. He pulled on the wooden screen door only to have it fall off the hinges. He grunted something under his breath before propping the door up against the side of the porch.

Craig was still trying to reach his brothers as they stepped onto the porch. He tried to walk in their footprints, but the snow had not been cleared away, not since the first snowfall of the year, and he was struggling through knee deep drifts. Bobby and Jack were both in the house before Craig got to the porch. He stepped across the concrete floor of the porch to a second door that his brothers had left standing open. The kitchen was huge and open. The refrigerator loomed in the corner next to the entrance, its door hanging open, showing that it was empty. Craig instinctively reached to the wall next to him for a light switch. He found a switch but when he flipped it up no light came on. There didn't seem to be any electricity, which would mean that Bobby was probably right, no one had been in this house for a long time. The air inside was just as icy as outside.

Bobby and Jack weren't waiting for him. They had already moved out of the kitchen. Craig pulled the blanket tighter around him and moved past the remains of an old, rusty metal table, using his brother's hushed voices to guide him. He fought off a shudder as memories from just a few short weeks ago filtered through his brain. An abandoned house in the middle of winter; he never would have guessed he'd be standing in another one, one like this, for the rest of his life. The only difference was this house seemed mostly in tact with no scars from fire, and he knew this house.

His brain was picturing the living room before he ever stepped into it. There was furniture there, covered in dusty sheets, barely visible in dim shadows of the breaking daylight that peaked through the uncovered windows. He knew the sofa was gold with wooden arms, and that the floral design of the arm chair sitting in the corner was a baby-poop shade of green with yellow roses, though all he could see were the hinted forms under the sheets. His stomach tightened and seemed to swell with anticipation for something that he couldn't identify. He wasn't worried, or scared, he felt almost excited. Jack and Bobby were looking around the room.

"So, what are we looking for?" Jack finally looked at Bobby.

"I don't know. Just look in anything with drawers." Bobby walked to what appeared to be a cabinet that rested next to the front door and pulled the sheet away. "Damn, this is nice shit." He let his hand rub down the side of the smooth wood, slowly.

"You're starting to sound like Jerry." Jack laughed as he moved to a small end table next to the sofa that had been left exposed. He pulled the drawer completely out but it was empty. He didn't bother to slide it back into place; instead he dropped it on the sofa and looked for something else to investigate.

Bobby turned and looked at Jack. "That's fucking rude, comparing me to Jerry." He snapped, but he smiled enough that Craig could see he was joking. Craig stood off to the side and watched the men go through the drawers.

"What the hell are we looking for Bobby?" Jack repeated the question after several seconds.

"Hell, I don't know Jack." Bobby turned away from the drawer he'd been going through. "There has to be something here."

Craig pulled at the blanket, wrapping tighter into it, trying to warm up. His teeth were starting to chatter. "It's not in here." He muttered the words without thinking.

Bobby looked at Craig. "What?"

Craig flinched inside when he realized what he'd said.

Bobby's eyes stayed glued to the boy. "You know what we're looking for?" He asked the question slowly.

Craig shook his head. "It's not in here." He repeated, not sure himself where the words had come from. He knew this house, he remembered a life there, but it was cloudy and faint in his mind. He was unsure of what exactly they were supposed to be looking for anyway.

"You've been here before Craig?" Jack asked the question.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah," He kept his head down and spoke quietly.

Bobby stepped across the floor and took an easy hold of the boy's shoulders. "When were you here?"

"With my Mom," Craig muttered. He avoided looking up at his brother.

"When you were little? That's when you got the rabbit?" Bobby pushed.

Craig nodded his head slowly, his mind trying to grasp the memories that were right there, on the edge.

"It's okay Craig." Bobby spoke slowly, with the same tone of voice Craig was used to hearing from him after one of his nightmares. "The key that was in the rabbit, do you know what it goes to?"

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "No." He truly didn't know the answer. "But it's not in here." He finally looked at Bobby, sure of that one fact, though he wasn't certain how he knew.

"Can you tell me where it is then? Can you tell me what it is?" Bobby kept his hold on Craig's shoulders. "Just think, try to remember."

Craig shook his head. "I don't know."

"You don't remember?" The voice was not Bobby's. It wasn't Jack's either. It took Craig a moment to realize the voice was detached and a little muted, as if it were coming from inside a box.

Bobby reacted instantly, pulling out the gun he'd been carrying in his belt. Jack turned quickly, towards the doorway to another room.

The man stepped into view in the dark shadows, his form barely visible in the twilight of dawn. "We spent a whole day together, in the orchard. Your mother wore that blue blouse and she gave you the rabbit once we were done playing."

Craig recognized the voice, and though his first reaction was to step closer to Bobby, he wasn't afraid.

"We dug a hole, remember? And we played in the dirt." The voice drifted across the cold air, sounding lonely. "We had a great day that day."

"How the hell did you know we would be here?" Bobby spoke with an edge to his voice, interrupting the thoughts that were stirring in Craig's head.

"Once I knew you had the toy and I figured out you'd managed to get a hold of my documents, it wasn't hard to figure out where you would go next. I hoped you wouldn't show up, I really did. If you had just stayed away, just let me go in peace, there wouldn't have been any more trouble from me." The shadowy figure seemed to turn towards Bobby. "I can take care of Harris; keep him from causing you any more trouble. It's not too late. Just take the boy, and go home. I'll make sure everything is settled. You won't have any more problems from my people or the law. Just give me the key and the code and leave."

Craig stared at the stranger; his mind was trying to place a face to him. He was certain he knew him, and he liked him. He felt at home with him, and he definitely wasn't afraid of him. It was a surprise when Bobby grabbed hold of him and pulled him further back, away from the shadow.

"Go to hell." Bobby held his gun up a little higher.

"I don't want to do this the hard way Bobby." The man stepped a little further into the room. "I want this to end, don't you? I can make shit happen. I'll take care of Harris. He's the one causing the problems."

"He works for you." Jack was suddenly right behind Craig.

"Not anymore. I never paid him to set you up; he did that on his own. He's planning to screw me and I can't let that happen. I want this to end, just like you." The man stepped further into the room. "My intentions were to quietly reclaim what was mine, and disappear. I have a new life planned; do you really think I would risk those plans to fuck with you?"

The words sounded familiar to Craig, the voice and the tone, it itched at the back of his brain, bringing back memories from when he was small. He could remember the same voice saying almost the exact same words. He tried to picture the face that went with the voice, but the only thing his mind could show him was that vague memory of being in the orchard with his mother and her friend, the features of his face washed away by the sun.

The words passing between his brothers and this man were mostly lost on Craig because he was trying too hard to remember the connection. He had a connection to him, he felt glad to see him, or the shadow of him, and he wanted to move closer to him, to see his face and be able really remember him.

Then the words seemed to penetrate the fog that his brain had fallen into. The man knew Bobby, he knew Harris. He was talking as if he was the reason they were all there at that moment. The words passing by him finally seemed to sink in and penetrate the fog of the past that he'd fallen into. He put the words together, a dawning of reason sinking in slowly; and it was then that he knew, with no doubt in his mind, one very important fact. The man standing in the shadows was Jessup Winston.


	34. Chapter 34

As always, do not own, make no money :)

* * *

**Chapter 34: Blood Ties**

Angel rubbed at his eyes. He'd been staring at Johnny's laptop far too long, or he was too tired; probably both. He'd been searching addresses from the piles of papers stacked up on the bar. Johnny was on the phone, digging further into some of the names they'd managed to get from Angel's searches. They were having luck, a lot of it, but piecing together exactly what they needed took up most of their mental energy. Jessup Winston had been living a double life for years. As Jessup Winston he had many connections on the shady side of business. As Jesse Nicholas, his life was straight, not a black mark anywhere, not so much as a parking ticket. He'd spent a lot of years building up an identity that could never be traced back to him. If Angel didn't know about Jesse Nicholas, he never would have been able to connect the two. Since he had that connection, everything seemed to fall into place pretty quick.

Johnny made calls to some of his contacts, no one that he would name, but people he swore could help them out with information. Once he mentioned Jessup Winston and their least favorite FBI agent Harris, facts started falling into place. Harris had been connected with the gangster activities for quite a while, with ties not only to Winston, but to Sweet, and Winston's old man. He had been dirty for years, and he had obviously gotten comfortable, thinking he was beyond being busted for his illegal activity. Johnny was able to get information linking Harris to numerous unsolved robberies.

Angle had called Green several times, passing onto him the names and dates that Johnny was digging up, and Green in turn was able to get more information from police files. He couldn't share much of the information he dug up, but what little he was able to report back to Angel was giving them plenty of information that they could use.

If they could derail Harris and ruin his credibility it would be all they needed to get Jack out of the shit he was in at the moment. He'd tried to call Bobby a few times and share this news with him, but either Jack's phone wasn't receiving, or he wasn't answering. He tried not to let his imagination run wild on him though. He had to believe Jack's phone was in a dead zone and wasn't receiving any calls. One of his brothers would have found a way to call if they needed help.

Johnny finished with his phone call. "Damn, I can't believe the luck we're having." He spoke quietly while staring at his phone. "A friend of a friend remembers some big diamond heist from years back; the dates match up to some of the papers you have here. Didn't Green say something about diamonds earlier?"

Angle shifted his eyes from the computer for a second. "Yeah, he did. I've been researching it, checking out old news stories."

"Yeah, guess who was in the middle of all that shit?" Johnny's grim expression slowly changed as a smile spread across his face, "Winston's old man, and Victor Sweet. You'll never guess who the lead investigator on that case was either."

Angel stared at Johnny for a few seconds before his brain put it together. He was too tired for his thought processes to move very quickly. "FBI, it had to be Harris."

"That's right." Johnny reached out and gave Angel a pat on the shoulder. "You get to move to the head of the class."

"Then Harris was in on this shit from the start. But he's not working with Winston, nothing he's done matches Winston's style, and Winston seemed pretty fucking surprised by all the shit that had gone down. It's almost as if Harris is trying to get us pissed at Jessup Winston. He knows what we do when we get pissed." Angel nodded his head thoughtfully. "You think he's trying to set Winston up right along with us, so he can claim the diamonds for himself?"

"That would be my guess. He needs to get Winston out of the way, but he needs him long enough to get to the diamonds, where ever they're hidden." Johnny pulled a stool up next to Angel at the bar. "So, what if he uses you boys to get rid of Winston, or actually, Nicholas? That gets him the diamonds, and gets rid of everyone in his way, right?" Johnny wasn't actually asking, he was making his point.

"Winston says he had nothing to do with any of the bullshit that went down with Jack and Craig. He's telling the truth. It was Harris, setting up Winston so we would take him out." Angel felt his face starting to burn hot.

"Right," Johnny nodded his head. "Once you boys take out Winston, who is actually Nicholas, then you have stepped right into a boat load of trouble. He links it to you all, you end up taking the heat for it, and he walks away with the fucking diamonds, free and clear, because no one knows about them. Those diamonds have been cleaned up, they had to be. That's what all this shit is. Winston wasn't laundering money with this shit, he was cleaning up the fucking diamonds." Johnny pointed to the piles of papers scattered across his bar.

"Shit, we need to get a hold of Bobby, now." Angel pulled his phone out and tried Jack's number, again.

"You ain't gonna get a hold of him. The cell ain't getting a signal, or they would have answered one of the dozen calls you've already tried. Call Green again, tell him what we've figured out. He should be able to back it up with information in the police files. I got more names I can give him." Johnny spoke quickly. "And then you need to call Jerry, we need to get to Bobby before he does something, you know 'Bobby like'."

Angel quickly dialed Green while he started backing out of the web pages on the computer. This night was about to get a hell of a lot longer.

Green sounded like shit when he answered the phone. The man should have been home, in bed. He shouldn't have been out the hospital to tell the truth. That was a debt that the Mercers would owe him for a long time. Angel quickly relayed the news to the detective and then listened while Green shared the worst news he'd heard all night. Harris had to be cut loose, he was out, and probably looking for the Mercers at that very moment.

"Shit, why the hell didn't you call me?" Angel cried out, forgetting the computer, standing quickly from the bar stool.

"I tried to call you. Have you bothered to check your messages? Damn, you Mercers all have one thing in common; you don't check your voicemail. I've been leaving messages with you and Jeremiah." Green spoke quickly. "He's been out of here for almost an hour. The other two guys are still at the hospital, I was hoping he'd go there and snag them, but he hasn't."

"Okay, we need to get to Bobby, before he fucks us all up. If he finds those diamonds he's gonna lead Harris right to them and then Harris will make his move." Angel continued to talk to Green while he and Johnny pulled on their coats and headed out of the bar. He gave Johnny the phone and let him give Green some names that could be tied into their theory, while he took Johnny's keys and led him to his car. Their plan hadn't really been discussed, but Angel and Johnny both knew the basics, they needed to get Jeremiah, and then head out to the farm where Jack and Bobby had headed for their search. Angel had known it would be better for them all to stick together at Johnny's and figure all of this shit out, but in desperation he'd allowed Bobby to run off, searching for whatever evidence he could find. At the time, they hadn't realized exactly what they were looking for. Now they did, now they had something to hold over Winston's head, and Harris. They had exactly what they needed to clear Jack, and ensure that no one would fuck with them again. Unless Bobby managed to figure all this out and found the diamonds already.

* * *

Harris parked his car in front of Nicholas Peters' house. His mouth was still throbbing, despite the fact that he'd swallowed some pain pills just an hour before. He wasn't in a good mood, and a lot of it had to do with the fact that Bobby Mercer had knocked out his teeth. He could get them fixed, eventually, but it wasn't like he had the pull that Winston had. He wasn't going to have two new teeth in a few days. He would have to wait until he had the payout for this job. The lights were on, but the place still looked quiet. He patted his coat to be sure he could feel his side arm there, in the holster, a habit he'd developed over the years. He got out of the car and walked across the drive, towards the front door. He hadn't quite made it to the porch when the garage door opened up. He back-stepped once to peer inside at Peters, who was hurriedly stuffing a suit case into the back seat of his car. Irritating, that's what it was. This man was trying to take off. Where the hell did he think he could go that a government agent couldn't find him? Harris felt a cynical laugh work its way through his chest.

The sound drew Peters' attention to him. The man was scared shitless, that was obvious by the way rushed to close the car door and move to the driver's door. "Harris, what are you doing here?"

"I came to pick up my package." Harris did his best to sound casual. "What about you? What the hell are you doing? Are you going somewhere?"

Peters pulled the driver's door of his car open and nodded his head. "Yeah, um, my wife called me. There's an emergency, I have to go."

Harris nodded his head slowly. It was a lie, he knew that. Why the hell would this fool be trying to take off? The only answer that came to mind was that he hadn't been able to get his hands on the toy, "What about my package Peters?"

"I don't have it." Peters shook his head.

"You were too scared to do it, weren't you?" Harris forced a hoarse sound that was supposed to be a laugh. "You are nothing but a coward, aren't you?"

"No, actually, I had it. I planted the papers, just like you to told me to. I did everything you told me." Peters spoke quickly, running his words into each other in a confused jumble.

"Where is the package?" Harris took a step towards the man.

"I don't have it now." Peters barely got the words out.

"What was that?" Harris took another step towards the garage door.

"I know about Jessup Winston, I have talked to him." Peters looked as if he were about to shit himself, and Harris found that amusing.

"What do you mean you've talked to him?" Harris felt a fire building deep in his chest. "Where the fuck is my package?" His voice rose steadily as he spoke. He quickly closed the space between him and Peters.

"I don't have it, he took it..." Peters stepped backwards, obviously trying to keep space between his self and the threat that loomed in front of him.

Harris allowed him to get just so far before he quickened his step, grabbed hold of the front of his coat and spun him around, slamming his back down to the hood of the car. "What do you mean you don't have it?" His voice burned deep from the back of his throat. His brain started putting pieces together, and though it nothing more than an educated guess, there was only one answer that he could think of to his question. "You gave it to Winston, didn't you?"

"No," Peters shook his head quickly, the fear showed in his eyes. "I was just trying to find you, I went to your hotel and…"

"Shut the fuck up you damn fool!" Harris wanted to hit the man. He wanted to land blows to his mouth and relieve the pressure building up in his chest. "You talked to him. You gave him my package." He knew what Peters had been about to say, he could sense it. He had good instincts; that was what made him good at his job. "You fucking gave Winston the package." His hand reached under his coat, feeling for the piece he'd checked for before he got out of his car.

"You didn't tell me he wanted it, that I was doing this for him, you lied to me." Peters' voice trembled as he spoke. "You said Winston was dead."

"I told you to get that fucking toy for me, you idiot. Winston wants results, he doesn't need to know how I get them." Harris pulled his gun out and stepped back from Peters, who didn't move to rise from his place on the car hood. "You just fucked me over." He took aim and fired.

Peters' hands came up as if to shield himself from the shot. Instincts; self-preservation ingrained in the human brain. Although it was useless, a man seemed to think blocking his view with his hands could stop bullets. Harris waited while the echo of the shot rang in his ears, his eyes focused on the weed eater hanging on the wall just on the other side of the car. Peters was not going to fuck this up for him any more than he already had.

Harris stared at the weed eater for a long time, while his mind worked out what he needed to do next. He needed to get a hold of Winston and clean up Peters' mess. He turned and calmly walked out of the garage as he holstered his gun. He was half way to his car when he pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and dialed Winston's cell number. No answer, he got voice mail. Next he tried the front desk of the hotel and asked to be put through to Mr. Nicholas' room. That's when he was informed that 'Mr. Nicholas' had left, apparently on some urgent business. He left, no wonder he wasn't answering his calls. He had the key, and the idiot would take the key and go to the orchard. The ground was frozen solid, but he'd still go to make sure the area hadn't been disturbed over the years. It's what Harris would have done if he had the key.

How much did Bobby Mercer know? Where the hell were the Mercers now? He needed to know so he knew his next move. He knew they had found Winston, could they be working together now? Had Winston teamed up with the Mercers against him? If they had, then they all could be out at the farm, tracking through the snow to pinpoint the spot where Winston had buried the important shit. His tongue ran across his teeth, finding the gap Bobby Mercer had inflicted on him just a few hours earlier. He was too close to let them screw him over now. He needed to find them. The orchard was the logical place for him to start. If they weren't there, he could at least tell if they had been there recently.

He had made it to his car by the time his thought process had finished. He didn't turn back to look at the open garage door of Peters' house. He didn't give a fuck about that man, and he wasn't worried, it would never be traced back to his gun, he would make sure of that. He had friends; he had a way of covering his trail, he always had managed to cover up anything he needed to.

He'd spent years playing it straight and doing the right thing, all that got him was a divorce and no real home to go to at night. After just so long the temptations got the better of him and he let his hands get dirty. He wasn't ashamed of it; he had no guilt over any of the extra money he'd made over the years because he had earned it. Just like the money he was expecting from the payout he'd receive from the diamonds, he had more than earned that. He had spent too many years planning this, he'd invested too much of his time and skills to lose it all to the fucking Mercers. He didn't care what the hell Jessup Winston thought he was worth, he wasn't going to be taking a paycheck for a fraction of the wealth; he was taking the whole damn haul on this one. Winston was getting weak, or he'd been weak the whole time and hid it well, he wasn't sure which. Either way, the man wasn't going to be worth more to him alive, so he might as well make sure he was dead. It was time to move on. He would be able to retire and make a new life for himself, he had it all worked out. He just had to find the dumb fuck and make sure things went according to his plans and not Winston's.

He pulled his car out onto the street and headed for the freeway. He didn't pay any mind to the posted speed limit, he was in a hurry. He needed to get to Winston before the asshole ruined his plans.

* * *

Jeremiah stood at the front door of his house, looking out the window. Angel had said he'd be there in five minutes, but there was no sign of him yet. Movement behind him told him that his wife was there, watching him while he watched for his brother. "Are you still not talking to me?" He spoke the words quietly.

"Jeremiah, I love you." Camille's voice was barely a whisper.

He turned to look at her, "But?" He knew something more was coming.

"No but. I love you." Camille looked as if she'd just lost her best friend. They were both stressed, and he knew they couldn't go on like this, not much longer.

"I really thought I'd be home for the rest of the night, I didn't think I'd have to go back out." Jeremiah shook his head. "You understand this though, right?"

"I know how you feel about your brothers. I understand why you feel obligated to be with them for all of this, but I don't understand how it can be more important than your own family, your daughters most of all." Camille glanced up at the stair case.

"Baby, can we not fight about this? Not now, not tonight." Jeremiah stepped over to her and put his arms around her. "This isn't about whose more important. This is for the girls and you just as much as my brothers. If I don't do this our whole future is gone."

"I don't want to argue with you, not now." Camille pulled her robe tight around her. "But I don't see what difference it makes if we have to change our plans Jeremiah. There has to be a reason why your plans keep getting shot down, or blown up. What happens if the girls are in the middle of it the next time?"

"There won't be a next time Camille. I swear, this is it, after we get Jack cleared I'm backing away, I won't have anything to do with Bobby's plans, I'll focus on my own, on my family here." Jeremiah's voice was still quiet. "I love you and my babies more than anything else, you come first."

"I've heard that before. I believed it, and I have believed you every single time you swore it was over. It's never over." Camille looked up at him through tears. "I can't keep doing this."

Jeremiah felt his heart catch and stop for a moment while her words sank in. "Don't do this Camille, please, don't make me choose, not tonight."

Camille drew in a shaky breath. "If you walk out that door, I won't be here when you come home." She shook her head slowly. "I can't sit here and wonder if you are going out to die. I can't live with that kind of fear. That part of your life is supposed to be over, I didn't fall in love with the hoodlum, I fell in love with the man who valued his family. What about your daughters? They are your blood Jeremiah."

"Please, Camille, don't make me choose. I can't choose. I do value my family, all of my family. My brothers were all I had growing up. They might not be blood, but what binds us goes deeper than that. You can't expect me to back away and leave them. Jack's the only one with an ounce of common sense, and he won't use it when he's around Bobby. If I'm not with them they'll end up dead."

"And what do I tell the girls when we get that phone call that it's you in a body bag?" Camille's voice rose slightly. "I can't do that, I don't have it in me to tell my babies their Daddy is dead." Tears slipped from her eyes. "I don't have it in me to hear that news period. It would kill me."

"My Mamma didn't raise me to run Camille. She believed in fighting for what's right." Jeremiah reached up and brushed the tears from his wife's cheeks with his thumbs. "You believe in that too, or you never would have been with me in the first place."

"I believe there's a time to fight your own battles, and there's a time to let the law have justice. You can give Green everything he needs to know to take care of this, you don't have to go." Camille's voice pitched slightly, the tears in her eyes were pooling and it was obvious there was going to be more tears.

"We have been giving Green everything. He's with us on this baby. Just a few more hours, and this will be over. I know it's hard, I don't want to go, but I have to." Jeremiah turned to look out the front window, still no sight of Angel. "You know, we've had to fight tooth and nail for everything we have. This ain't no different. But once it's over…"

"It will never be over. That's the problem. Every day I find myself looking out that window every time I hear a car door, wondering if someone is coming up my front walk with a gun. I check on the girls all night long, I don't sleep, I can't eat, and I'm worried about you and them and us." Camille drew in a deep breath. "You were supposed to be home for the night Jeremiah, and now you're ready to walk out that door again. What about us? Don't we mean as much to you as your brothers?"

Jeremiah felt a pounding starting in his head. It had been like this for a while now. They talked in circles and never seemed to get anywhere. "Of course you do. If I thought there was the smallest chance that you and the girls were in danger, I would never leave, but this has nothing to do with my three special ladies." He tried to force a smile. "My brothers would be here too if there was the slightest chance that you or the girls were in danger. You're not." He shook his head.

"You don't know that. The last time…." Camille started.

"The last time was different Camille." Jerry tried to keep his frustration out of his voice but failed miserably. Car lights bounced from the windows to the walls as a car pulled into the drive out front. He turned and looked out to confirm it was Johnny and Angel. He turned back to Camille. "Please, just trust me this one last time?"

Camille folded her arms across her chest and shook her head slowly, but didn't say anything.

"Will you be home when I get back?" Jeremiah reached for the door knob.

Still Camille didn't speak.

"I love you Baby." He felt his heart breaking, sure that her silence was confirmation that she would in fact not be there when he got home. As he pulled the door open he hesitated, about to turn towards his wife to try once more to talk to her. The car horn in their drive sounded and Angel yelled something.

Jeremiah took one step, ready to walk away from his wife, praying she would say something to him.

"I love you too Jeremiah." Camille's quiet voice drifted across the air, pulling him back. He turned and before he could say anything Camille was in his arms, placing her hands on each side of his face and kissing him hard. "You'd better come home. You've got this family here waiting for you."

His heart beat hard in his chest, but some of his worries faded, slightly. "I'll make it right, I promise." He whispered to her before he pulled away and walked out the door.

* * *

Bobby Mercer shook his head in a slow, steady motion. "You think I'm gonna trust you again Winston? Hell, you're like all the rest of them. You say one thing but you turn around and do another. I got my family to protect; we keep getting fucked over by scum like you. I trusted you once, I let you live once, and look what the hell it got me." He kept his gun aimed straight ahead. He couldn't really make out much of Winston in the shadows, but he could make a pretty good guess where the man's head was. He wasn't about to risk either of his brothers getting hurt.

"All I want is to get out, don't you see that?" Winston took a step closer, the gun in his hand catching a little bit of the light starting to seep in through the windows.

"That's why you got a gun." Bobby waved his own piece a bit, wiggling the barrel towards Winston's weapon, "'Cause you want to end this all peaceful like." He held back the urge to squeeze the trigger and put an end to Jessup Winston right then and there. He damn sure couldn't shoot the man with Craig standing right there. The kid had seen enough blood in the past few weeks, he didn't need to see more.

"I only have this as protection." Winston took another step closer, his own gun pointed in Bobby's direction. "Will you hear me out? Please?"

"Jesse." Craig muttered from beside Bobby.

The man felt bile build in the back of his throat. Craig knew Winston, or Nicholas. How the hell often had Jessup Winston changed names? There weren't many reasons for a man to change identities and disconnect from his past, and the few that Bobby Mercer could think of weren't very comforting. He reached out with his free hand and pushed Craig further behind him. "Jack, take Craig out of here." He spoke quickly. He could see Jack taking hold of Craig's arm, but Winston spoke before anyone could take a step.

"He has a right to hear this, doesn't he?" Winston's words were quiet and calm. "It's his life I was trying to protect."

Anger boiled at Bobby's blood the instant the words hit the air. "Protect him?" He cried out. "He ain't yours to protect! He ain't shit to you, you got that? He's our brother, and you ain't got no ties to him."

"I'm his Uncle." Enough light was filtering in that Winston's face could be seen with more detail. He turned towards Craig, and a smile creased his lips. "I didn't know where you were for a long time. I didn't look for you because I figured you would be better off, away from Adam, and the old man. Your mother and I had a plan to break free, but we didn't have enough time to make it work. I am so sorry for that. I'm sorry for what you went through. I didn't find out about it in time to do anything."

Bobby couldn't believe what he was hearing. He wanted to punch this man, knock out the two new teeth that replaced the previous two he'd removed from Winston's face. He glanced down at Craig and could see confusion on his face. "Jack, get him the hell out of here."

Jack started to pull Craig away again.

"No!" Craig pulled away from Jack and tried to move past Bobby, towards Winston. "He's telling the truth, I know him."

Bobby's hand snapped forward, clutching the boy's shoulder and jerking him back, probably a little too hard. "You do what I say Craig, I ain't got time for this shit."

Winston reached out towards Craig in the same moment, as if he were about to pull him free from Bobby's grasp. Bobby's gun found its way to the center of Winston's forehead so fast he didn't realize he'd moved until after he felt the pressure of the man's head at the end of his gun. "You do not touch him." He growled.

Winston held both hands up, his gun pointing to the ceiling. "He is my sister's son. He's my blood." He huffed out the words breathlessly, obviously feeling a need to explain. "I'm his real family."

"I don't give a fuck what he used to be, he ain't nothin' to you now. You got that?" Bobby pressed the gun a little harder into Winston's forehead. "He's our brother, he's a Mercer. We are his family, and you wouldn't have turned Harris lose on the only family he's got if you gave a shit about him at all."

"I didn't turn Harris lose on you." Winston slowly let his hands lower.

Bobby kept one eye on the gun. "If you didn't want trouble, why the hell did you come with a gun?"

Winston's eyes crossed as he focused on the gun pressed into his own forehead. "Because I knew you would have one." His voice was stronger this time. He shifted his gaze back towards Bobby. "I need to defend myself."

Bobby almost pulled the gun back, almost gave into the urge to trust this man, but at the same time his finger ached to squeeze on the trigger. Nothing that had come out of Winston's mouth was good, he didn't know how much of it to believe. He knew Craig trusted that this man standing in front of him, he could see it on the kid's face. That put him into a very touchy, fucked up mess at the moment. If he shot Jessup Winston, Craig would only see it as him shooting a long lost uncle, fucking family. If he didn't shoot the son of a bitch, he could end up turning on them and hurting Craig in ways that Bobby couldn't stand to dwell on. He had to get his brain back on track, try to get separate Jessup Winston's surprise revelation from the mess they were trying to get out of. "What the fuck are we looking for Winston?" He asked the question slowly, with as much calm as he could manage in an attempt to anchor himself and Winston back to their present situation.

"Move the gun, and we can talk Bobby." Winston sounded just as calm as Bobby.

"I ain't moving this gun, you talk, now." Bobby heard the growl that followed his words; he wasn't able to hold it in.

"Bobby," Craig spoke quickly, "Stop!" His hand grabbed a hold of Bobby's arm, taking him by surprise. He looked down at Craig, who had moved back up within reach of Winston. His instincts were to grab the kid and jerk him back, out of the way. This wasn't going to end well, the man already knew that, but apparently the kid didn't get it.

"Jack, take your brother out of here." Bobby stole a quick glance at Jack, hoping his other brother would have enough sense to listen to him.

Jack gave him a nod and reached for the kid, but Craig moved a little quicker, closer to Winston, giving Bobby a push back as he did. It took the elder Mercer off guard, threw him off balance, mentally, and pissed him off. The whole action forced his arm down."What the fuck are you doing?" Bobby yelled as he realized the whole motion freed Winston up for whatever the hell he wanted to do. He didn't have time to react before Winston grabbed Craig's arm, pulled him closer and stuck his own gun into the boy's side.

"Now, we talk." Winston suddenly didn't sound so friendly.


	35. Chapter 35

Hey all, finally another chapter :D Let me know what you think (if anyone is still reading, I know it's been a long time).

Don't own, make no money!

* * *

**Chapter 35: Somebody Fucked Up**

Craig held his breath. His brain was still trying to process what was happening, but it was also stuck in the past, bringing up pictures of his mother in that very house, laughing and sober and happy. The only time he could remember her totally and completely happy. It was funny how he'd never really remembered the days he and his mother had spent there. He could remember times when his mother would leave Adam and take him to someplace safe, but it was the last time they had made their escape that they had gone to that house. His mother had left Adam, and Craig had been able to be a little boy again, at least for a little mot He never really thought about the time they'd been at that house or what they had done or who they had been with; his mind always focused more on the terror of Adam showing up and taking them back to the life from before, to the drugs and the hell. He had always remembered the days without Adam, but the details had been blurred and fuzzy. It was odd how his mind picked now to bring back details that he'd long pushed back into the dark shadows, where they were safe from anyone else touching them. The good memories had to be hidden so that Adam couldn't take them away, that's what he'd always felt. He had always remembered the apple trees, and the white fence, but now he could remember playing out in the yard, his mother and Jesse sitting on the porch watching him and laughing while honey bees buzzed around the flowers planted next to the porch in the front and birds whistled a hundred different tunes in the afternoon sun. It was a good memory.

It was a memory that he couldn't let anyone destroy and that's exactly what Bobby was going to do. He could feel it. Bobby was going to shoot the only person he could remember that made his mother laugh; the only person besides his mother who had cared whether or not Adam hurt him.

He knew he was supposed to listen to Bobby, but he knew that his oldest brother was capable of pulling the trigger and ending the life of the only person he could remember who seemed to really love his mother. How could he let that happen? He wasn't catching everything that was being said, he seemed to be missing half of it as his brain replayed scenes of his mother dancing across the floor to a song on the radio, and Jesse clapped his hands to the beat, cheering her on; singing stupid songs while they ate their dinner.

His brain was so busy dwelling on the memories that he was having a problem keeping up with exactly what was happening. He knew he was standing next to Jesse, and he remembered yelling at Bobby because he was afraid the man was going to shoot the only connection he had to the good memories of his mother, the only person who could answer questions for him and explain to him how his mother could have been like two different people. How could she have cared about him and still gone back to Adam so many times? How could she have had enough sense to leave him when she was strung out on drugs and yet go back to that life after she was straight? It never made sense to him, he had never been able to connect the two different mothers into the one person that she was.

He knew what he was doing when he grabbed Bobby's arm, he only wanted his brother to stop aiming his gun at the only connection to his mother he would ever have; but it took a few seconds for him to understand that now he was standing next to Jesse, with something hard and cold jamming him in the side. A sick feeling grabbed hold of him when he realized what Jesse was doing. It didn't make sense to him, it didn't add up. Jesse wouldn't hurt him, he had never hurt him. He could remember more and more about him with each passing second and Jesse had never done anything mean or cruel to him or his mother.

Instinct made him look up at Bobby, who swung his gun back up to point at Jesse's head. "Let him go Winston." The man's words were quiet, but Craig recognized the deadly threat weaved through them.

A cold stone settled in Craig's gut. Winston, Jesse was Jessup Winston. Jessup Winston, the man who had worked with Adam, the man who had helped Adam blow up Jeremiah's building, the man who faked his own death and set up Jack. Jesse, Jessup, they were the same man. The man who had made his mother happy and made Craig feel safe for so long was now jamming a gun into his side. It didn't make sense; he couldn't wrap his tired brain around it enough to comprehend how it was possible. Too much had happened in too little time for him absorb it all. It had been less than twenty four hours since he'd been riding in the car with his brothers to the police station. In that time he'd seen Jack arrested, he'd been dragged off by Harris' men and scared shitless from that point on. He had felt as close to safe as he could after the past two months, and in what felt like a split second it had all been ripped away. He stared into the shadows and tried to make sense of what was happening now, tried to remember how he had ended up where he was now, in that moment.

He heard Bobby growling words, "I told you to get him out of here Jack." He was drawn back to the moment, to the reality of the situation as it was, at least for the time being.

Jack stepped closer to Bobby. "I'm sorry, I tried, but he moved too quick." He muttered.

"Not now Jack, you fucked up now we deal with it." Bobby shook his head, keeping his gaze fixed on Jesse. No, Winston.

Craig felt a chill run down his back as Jesse pushed the gun harder into his side.

"We can talk, and then I'll let him go and put down my gun." Jesse's tone matched Bobby's. Craig could hear the threat behind the words and he somehow knew that the cheerful, happy man his mind was so focused on no longer existed, this wasn't Jesse, this was Jessup Winston, the asshole who had made his brothers lives, his life hell in recent weeks.

The teen finally let his eyes drift down to the object Jesse was pressing into his side. "What are you doing?" He felt small asking the question, just as small as he'd been the last time he'd seen this man.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Jesse leaned towards him. "I never hurt you, we were friends, remember?" Still, he tightened the grip he had on him.

Craig swallowed hard and looked back up at Bobby. His brother's jaw twitched under the pressure he was applying. He felt tears sting at his eyes and he silently wished he could go back just a few seconds sooner and change everything that he had done. He was supposed to listen to his brother, do what he said, when he said without arguing, and he hadn't done that. He hadn't listened, he'd gotten in the way, and he'd screwed up, big time. Bobby was never going to forgive him for this. Yeah, he'd fucked up.

"Don't think I won't blow your brains out you fucker. You let go of him now or you're dead." Bobby used his thumb to cock the trigger of the gun. "I ain't fucking playing games here. I might have been ready to listen before, but not with you holding a gun on a fourteen year old kid."

"He's my blood. I don't want to hurt him, he's all I have left. But you need to listen to reason, and this is the only way to make you do that." Winston pushed the gun a little harder into Craig's side. "I never sent Harris after you. I didn't know what the hell was going on until you showed up at my suite tonight."

"Bullshit." Bobby shook his head and inched his feet a little closer. "You want to talk, you let go of the kid and let him go outside with Jack."

"I love my nephew, and I wouldn't hurt him. I wanted him to be in a home where he was safe. That's why I left him with your mother. I didn't know Adam had found out where he was until it was too late. I am sorry about that." Jesse stepped back from Bobby, pulling Craig with him. "But I wouldn't have let him get away with what he was trying to do. I would have stopped him before it went too far."

"Before it went too far?" It was Jack who spoke. "What the hell do you think it is too far? He nearly killed Craig. He nearly killed all of us."

"I knew the Mercers could deal with Adam Macks, and you proved me right." Jesse took another step back. "My father was a crazy son of a bitch. He had no soul, just like Adam. He did not love, and he did not give affection."

"I don't give a fuck about your father. I want you to let go of my brother you ass hole." Bobby took another step forward.

The gun pressing into Craig's side seemed to pull back slightly; it was still there, but the pressure lightened. Jesse sighed and hesitated for a moment. "My mother did all she could to keep me away from my father, and it worked for a long time. But after I grew up, and became my own man, there really was nothing she could do to keep me from forming a relationship with him. I didn't know what he was back then. I didn't understand it. I didn't even know I had a sister. He kept that from me. I found Lydia by accident, and once we found each other, I did all I could to try to help her, to get her away from Adam Macks and our father. They were killing her, slowly, with the drugs. My father was monster, don't you understand that? He sucked me into his world and wouldn't let me go. Lydia however, was not a son and he wanted nothing good for her. He messed her up, kept her doped up, and then he let Macks take over for him and keep her wasted out of her mind. He didn't care about her but he needed to control her. He never would have cared what she did if not for the fact that she had given him a grandson." He spoke the words quickly.

"I don't give a fuck." Bobby growled. "How can you stand there claiming you care about that kid, but you're holding a gun on him?"

"I have been trying to leave this life for years. I tried to get Lydia and Craig out too, but our father found us. He sent Macks after them, to bring them home. So I put my plan on hold until we could work out an alternative." Jesse Nicholas didn't seem to hear Bobby's words. "I'm sorry for all of the trouble your family has had the past few months, but I did not bring any of that on you. I had nothing to do with Harris' actions. He has been working to double cross me too. We have a common enemy here Mercer, let's work together to rid ourselves of him."

"I don't work with no one your son of a bitch. Especially when they are holding a gun on my baby brother," Bobby took several quick steps towards Winston, planting the gun directly into the center of the man's forehead, again. "Now let him go."

Winston closed his eyes and let go of Craig's arm. "I would never hurt him." His voice was quiet. "The guns not even loaded." He dropped the weapon to the floor and then held both of his arms out away from his body. "Go ahead and shoot me Mercer. I'm too tired of this shit. I'm tired of living a double life, of trying to break free. I've lost everything that ever mattered, and I don't mean the money. I've got all the money I need, right out there, in that orchard. I've got a future out there, one that's clean, with no strings attached. I just want out, one way or another."

Bobby reached out with his free hand and snagged Craig by his right wrist. He jerked him hard to get him in motion, and then shoved him into Jack. "You get his ass out of here Jack." He nearly yelled.

It had all happened so fast that Craig didn't have a chance to react. He felt Jack grab his arm, harder than he thought was possible from Jack, and then he was being pulled back through the house, towards the back door. He felt the tears falling now, hot against his cold cheeks. "I'm sorry." He managed to choke the words past the stiffness that had taken hold of his throat. He kept his eyes downward, watching his feet as they picked their way through the debris scattered under them.

Jack pulled him a little closer to him. "I know." He huffed in a short breath. "Just keep quiet and let's go." They reached the kitchen, and Jack stopped short, pulling Craig to a stop as well.

Craig was afraid to look up, to see why they had stopped, but his eyes squeezed out more tears and then shifted up against his will, to see Harris standing in the doorway, blocking their way out.

* * *

Jeremiah was seated in the back of Johnny's car, his mind unable to focus on what Angel and Johnny were saying from the front. Johnny was driving too fast, and normally Jeremiah would have been speaking up about that. He was trying to focus his mind on what they had to do, but instead he found his thoughts drifting to Camille. He'd walked out on her, again. He didn't have a choice, and at that moment the only thought on his mind was the look in her eyes when she had told him she loved him, and that she would be there when he came home.

"Jerry, did you hear me?" Angel was turned in the passenger seat, looking at him.

"What?" Jeremiah asked.

"I said when we get to this place we need to find Bobby and get the hell out of there quick. I got a bad feeling about this. We got what we need, and the cops will be here soon enough. The last thing we need is to be caught up in the middle of another case, and that's exactly what will happen if we're here when they show up. Got it? No screwing around." Angel was calm enough, despite the slight twitch at his temples.

Jeremiah nodded his head. "Yeah, I got it."

"We give everything we've got to Green and Johnson and they'll back us up when we walk into that courtroom. We'll get Jack out of this mess and everything will be fine." Angel flashed a smile. "And then we can let the cops take care of the rest."

Jeremiah couldn't fight down the scowl. "Unless we find Bobby and he's already done something stupid, right? You know how Bobby is, he's probably right back at Winston's hotel right now, holding a gun on him, ready to kill his ass." He let his thoughts escape out loud without meaning to.

"He would have called us if he was going back there." Angel shook his head. "What I'm worried about is Harris. Green hasn't been able to track him down. If he's put the pieces together and realizes how much we know, him and Winston could be doing just what we're doing, heading out here to stop Bobby. We gotta keep anything else from happening. We ain't got nothin' if either of them are dead, and you know Bobby."

"Yeah, knowing Bobby, he's probably already killed them both." Jeremiah muttered. His mind drifted back to Camille, sitting at home, worrying, and struggling with feeling abandoned, again. He should never have come. Bobby had told him earlier to go home and take care of his family, that's what he should have been doing. He was tired, he didn't feel well, and still, here he was riding with his brother, back in the fucked up game.

He felt guilty, but he would have felt guilty no matter what choice he made. He was so tired of having to choose. No one should have to make choices like this. Families shouldn't be divided, his wife, daughters and brothers were all his family, why did there have to be a separation of them? Why did he have to feel as if he had two separate families to defend and protect? That wasn't what family was supposed to be.

Evelyn Mercer had taught him what family was, and what he needed to do was fight for what she taught him; the people that he loved and loved him, they were his family; and that included his brothers, his wife, and his daughters.

"You ain't listenin' to a damn thing I'm saying, are you?" Angel spoke quietly. It was obvious he'd been talking while Jeremiah's mind had wondered again.

"Man, I got it, okay? I know what we're doing. We're finding Bobby and dragging his sorry ass back home so we can go to court. We need to find him before he buries us under more shit. I got it." Jeremiah sighed tiredly, "Now leave me the hell alone, before I tell you to turn this car around and take me home, because I'm tired of dragging Bobby's ass out of tight places right now okay?"

Angel looked at him for a long moment, "You ain't alright, are you?" He asked slowly. "You forget what we're fighting for here, brother?"

"I ain't forgot shit, we're fighting for family." Jeremiah sat up in the seat so he could get a better look at Angel, "Only, I've been fighting for a few more people than you and I feel like I'm losing that fight." He felt frustrated, and although he knew he was taking it out on Angel at that moment he couldn't help it.

Angel shook his head. "It will be over soon Jerry." He spoke quietly; a knowing look took over his expression. "Believe it or not, we're doing all of this for your wife and kids too. They are Mercers as much as we are. What do you think will happen to them if we don't settle this once and for all? You say you want a future for them, well it ain't gonna happen with our name and our past hanging over them like it is, now is it?"

"You just don't understand." Jeremiah dropped back into his seat and shifted his gaze to take in the morning light that was brightening up the snow and ice that stretched out in every direction around them, "Are we there yet?" He needed to change the subject.

Johnny groaned from behind the wheel, "You did not just ask that question." He slowed the car and made a turn into what should have been a gravel drive. Tire ruts leading up to a metal gate and the fact that the gate stood wide open told them they had not been the first car to make that same turn this morning.

"Footprints," Angel pointed out the tracks that accompanied the tire marks. "More than one car came through here." He observed out loud.

Johnny drove the car slowly up the ice and snow, staying in the previous tracks, unsure where the edges of the drive were hiding under ice crusted snow. Angel, you and Jeremiah go to the back, I'll go around and go in the front." He finally spoke as he stopped the car behind the piece of shit Sofi's brother had loaned the Mercers, and then opened the driver's door. "You've both got guns, right?"

"Right here," Angel pulled a pistol out of his coat pocket as he pushed his door opened, "Jeremiah?" He didn't wait for an answer as he climbed out of the car.

"I don't have no gun." Jeremiah pushed the seat up out of his way and followed his brother across the snow. He could see Johnny moving towards the front of the house, sliding in the crusty snow every few steps.

"You ain't got a gun?" Angel slowed down enough for Jeremiah to catch up to him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I didn't want to make Camille worry more than she already was." Jeremiah whispered his words, though he wasn't sure why. He should have brought a gun.

"Well if anyone starts shooting at us, you duck." Angel reached the porch door before Jeremiah. "Yeah, that's gonna work out just fine." He didn't try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Jeremiah nodded his head, knowing he'd fucked up. He should have had a gun on him. Angle had his back to him now, leading him quietly onto the porch. It took a second to realize there was a voice speaking ahead of them. "Just back up boys, don't make any sudden moves." At first Jeremiah thought the warning was directed at him and Angel, but he managed to crane his neck around Angel to see Harris in what had once been a kitchen, pointing a gun in the direction of Jack and Craig. He gave Angel a pat on the arm, more to let him know that he could see what was happening.

At that moment Jack's eyes shifted slightly and he looked right at Angel and Jeremiah. The corners of his mouth curved up as he slowly raised his hands towards the ceiling. "What are you going to do Harris, shoot us?" He spoke the words slowly.

"I have plans for you Jack." Harris took a step towards the younger Mercers. "Hell, I have plans for Craig too. There's no need to shoot either of you. That nosey brother of yours though, that's different. He won't stop interfering."

Jack's eyebrows rose slightly, "Which brother exactly? You know, we have three more brothers, and none of them will step back from this Harris. We aren't afraid of you." He smiled wide. "Now, take Angel for example, he's pretty pissed about all of this, and I'm sure if he was here right now, he'd take that gun from you and shove it right down your throat."

Harris made a low noise that Jerry couldn't make out, but he was certain there were no actual words, though it wasn't really a grunt either.

"And then there's Jerry, you know he's a hell of a lot meaner than he looks. He's taken a good bite out of a few people, have you ever seen his teeth?" Jack allowed a quick flick of his eyes towards Jerry as he spoke, but kept his attention on Harris.

"I only need one Mercer to take the fall and one Mercer who will back up my story." Harris motioned towards Craig, who looked like he was about to piss his pants.

"And you really think Craig would back up anything for you?" Jack was starting to look anxious, obviously expecting Angel and Jerry to make a move. Jerry waited until Jack looked his way again, and used his hand to let him know they needed Harris to say more. The man felt too full of himself, and that was what always fucked someone over, too much confidence. If a person didn't compensate for flaws, or unexpected emergencies, they were bound to be burned, and Jerry wanted to hear a little more of what Harris was saying, let the man stroke his own ego for a minute. Apparently Angel felt the same, because he wasn't making a move on Harris either.

Harris shifted his stance and held his gun towards Craig. "I didn't say he would actually back me up, but who's going to believe him against me, especially when we search your house again and find the papers showing his adoption was illegal; not to mention the papers there that show Jeremiah used ill-gotten means to buy his warehouse?" Harris laughed.

Craig started to back up, apparently he couldn't see Angel or Jeremiah from the angle he was standing; Harris blocked his view.

"And just what makes you think we are gonna let any of that happen?" Angel finally spoke as he took quick steps forward, until the barrel of his gun was planted firmly in Harris' back. "Drop the damn gun, now, and you might live."

The gun in Harris' hand remained steady, still aimed at Craig. From behind, Jeremiah couldn't see the man's face and had no way of reading what he might do next.

"Angel Mercer." When Harris spoke he sounded almost cheerful. "If I know you boys as well as I think I do, Jeremiah must be with you." He turned his head slowly, only sifting his body slightly so that he could see behind him. A smile was plastered to his face. "You really don't want to pull that trigger Angel, what if this gun goes off and one of your brothers ends up dead?" A wicked texture weaved through the words as they spilled from that smile.

"Your finger won't have a chance to twitch, Harris." Angel's voice held no emotion. "Go ahead; give me a reason to split your spine in two with a bullet." He pressed the barrel of his gun deeper into the man's back. "Very slowly, lower your gun and give it to Jack, grip first."

Harris glanced back towards Jack and Craig. The gun lowered slowly, and he reached for it with his other hand, as if he were going to comply with Angel's demands. Just as he seemed to be shifting the gun so that he could stretch it out towards Jack, his elbow swung back and slammed Angel in the side, knocking him off balance. Angel's gun went off and Jeremiah used the confusion to slam himself into Harris. In that instant the sound of gunfire from the front of the house seemed to shake the walls.

Jeremiah felt Harris give way under his slam, crumbling under him in a limp heap. In the shadows of the morning light that was slowly filling the room he could make out a dark pool forming under the agent's limp body. "Damn." He muttered as he pulled away from him, scooting across the faded tile floor on his butt until he hit the remains of a kitchen table. He looked up to see Jack had pushed Craig into the wall on the opposite side of the room and was pressing up against him as if to shield him from any more bullets that may be flying.

Angel looked at Harris, and then scanned his brothers the same as Jeremiah had before he looked towards the doorway leading further into the house. "Bobby?" He called out and bolted out of view into the next room. "Ah, shit, I knew you'd fuck it up!"


	36. Chapter 36

Yeah, I'm still here :) Thanks to all of you for sticking with this!

As always, I do not own Four Brothers, nor do I profit from this story in any way. (Unless you count reviews, please pay well with reviews!)

* * *

**Chapter 36: ****Blood and Apple Blossoms**

Craig felt as if he couldn't breathe with Jack pushing him into the wall. He knew his brother was trying to protect him, but he still felt as if he were suffocating. He looked down at the still body of Agent Harris, the blood oozing across the floor under him, and his stomach immediately turned to acid. He turned away but he could still smell the scent of blood tingeing the air around him. He swallowed hard and tried not to breathe too deeply. He was tired of blood, there had been too much of it. He'd spent a lifetime having nightmares about it.

His brain tingled and he turned to stare at Jeremiah, who was still sitting on the floor, backed up to the shambles that had once been a kitchen table, staring at the bloodied Harris. The boy could tell by the look on Jerry's face that he wasn't the only one who had an issue with the blood staining the floor, and that made him feel a little less alone for some reason. He also knew what it felt like to have someone staring at you while you were dealing with that kind of sight so he turned his attention back to Jack, who was following in the direction Angel had just gone, back towards the living room.

Craig felt lost, and wasn't sure of what to do, so he looked back at Jerry, the only other person in the room with him now. "Are you okay?" He asked weakly, his head spinning from the events of the whole day. He could see that Jeremiah wasn't okay, but he still had to ask. Hearing his own voice validated the fact that he was still alive and hearing Jerry's answer would mean that his brothers were going to make everything okay.

Jerry scrambled to his feet quickly, almost as if he'd been just come out of a deep sleep. "Damn, Bobby killed him, I knew he was gonna do something stupid, I just knew it!" He ignored the teen as he stepped past him to join their brothers in the next room.

Craig looked down at Harris' body again. He turned to follow Jerry, but stopped. Bobby had probably shot Jesse. He didn't want to see another dead body, especially if it was Jesse. His brother had been angry enough to shoot the man; he'd been ready to when Jack had led Craig out of the room. Craig couldn't stand the thought of Jesse dying, the only person alive who knew and remembered his birth mother, the mother who had tried but failed so miserably; the mother who came back to him in those memories of blood that he'd been fighting off for so long. Jesse was the only connection Craig would ever have to a parent he could barely remember. Had Bobby killed him? Who else would he have shot? They'd left Bobby alone with Jesse in that room, and Angel had yelled at Bobby for fucking up. Bobby had shot Jesse, that's what had to have happened.

Craig turned back to look at Harris lying on the floor, all of that blood staining the remnants of worn linoleum under him. He didn't want to be stuck in the kitchen by himself with all of that blood, but at that moment the last thing he wanted was to go into the living room to see Jesse lying dead on the floor there in even more blood, with Bobby standing over him holding the gun.

His brain produced a picture of the whole scene playing out in the next room, though it was much more bright and vivid than the reality of it would have been, considering the sun had not fully risen into the sky; the imagined scene was mostly red, and the gun in Bobby's hand was huge and had a smoking at the barrel. Yes, smoke literally rolled out of the barrel of the gun and disappeared into a grey haze that seemed to frame the image in his mind. No, that was a memory he could never live with so it made more sense to avoid creating it. How could he live knowing that the most important person in his life had taken away someone who had mattered not only to him when he was young, but had mattered to his mother, a person he had no direct connection to anymore. His brain was getting it all confused. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He was alone in the ruins of a room that he could remember eating meals in when he was small. It had been a pleasant room, bright and warm and always seemed to smell like cinnamon. It was exactly the opposite at that moment. It was dark and cold and smelled like mold and rot and fresh blood. It felt as if his memories were decaying right there in front of him and that made it hard for him to sort out real memories of the house and his mother and even Jesse, from what could be things his brain had made up to taunt him, a side effect of being Adam Macks' son that he should have been used to by now.

The more he tried to think the less sense he could make out of anything. There was too much going on around him, and he was tired. He needed to get out of that house, out into the air, where he could breathe and think. He didn't know if he could work up the nerve to step past Harris, but that option seemed far better than the other, which was to stand there staring at the man or go into the living room and see another part of his past bleeding out on the living room floor where he had sat playing with his toy trucks when he was small. Though he didn't have any distinct memory of playing on that floor; he couldn't be sure if his brain was playing another trick on him. He inched his way over to the wall on the other side of the room and started working his way towards the back porch, keeping as much space between himself and Harris as possible. Once he had worked his way past the sink he turned fully towards the door and pushed his way through it, onto the covered porch.

He stood there for a moment to try to regain some composure, to realign his senses. He let his mind drift as he looked out at the snow, at the morning sun as it peeked out over the landscape. The clouds were thinning, and the rays from the sun were starting to cast an eerie orange, red color across the sky as well as the tree tops of the orchard just on the other side of a steep, but short hill, to the north side of the yard. His gaze fixed on the tree branches poking up from the other side of the hill, giving the illusion that they were growing out of the snow. He knew it was a trick of light and the angle of the hill with the snow drifted along the top of it, but it still seemed odd to look at. He knew the trees were growing in neat rows on the other side of that steep rise, though his memories of his time there held no snow or cold or bare branches. His mind seemed to snap to attention as he thought about his time in the orchard.

He stepped off of the porch and looked around. The freezing wind bit at him, but he'd lost the blanket at some point in the house. He pushed the cold away with his mind and started crunching his way across the vast stretch of winter between him and the trees. His mind flashed back to a hot summer day, playing in the orchard with Jesse, his mother sitting on a blanket nearby while Jesse dug in the dirt, allowing Craig to help him, making the task a game that had thrilled the boy. He had forgotten the feeling of digging in the cool dirt. The remembered smell of it whispered at his senses and he could almost feel it caked up under his finger nails. The tree had been small, the smallest the boy had ever seen. Jesse had told him it was his tree and that any apples that came up on it would be just for him. There was something special about it; he just had to remember what it was. It was different from the other trees surrounding it, special in some way, but his brain couldn't seem to bring back enough of the details for him to grasp onto that one detail that would identify his tree.

He pushed aside his memories once he realized he was at the top of the hill. He studied the trees in front of him, studied them hard, trying to find that one characteristic that would identify his tree. As he moved closer the snow seemed less deep. The trees themselves had served as a windbreak during the storm, creating less drifting around them which meant the ground around them hadn't been layered in so much ice during the ice storm either. In fact, the air seemed to have less of a bite to it. That didn't mean it was warm, his body still shivered against the winter and he wished that he had that damn blanket, or better yet, a coat.

How was he supposed to find his tree? There were a hundred of them, probably more, and he had no idea which one was the tree Jesse had given him. He hugged his arms around him as he trudged down the row directly in front of him, moving slowly, eyeing every tree in his range of site. His brain strained to remember, he needed to remember.

He stopped walking half way down the row and turned towards the trees on his left; scanning each tree carefully before allowing his gaze to slide to the next one. He knew it as soon as he seen it, despite the fact that he hadn't been sure before. He remembered the first time Jesse had shown him the tree. He'd told him the trunk had been split when it was a sapling, probably hit by a tractor or a mower, or some kind of equipment; and grew almost as two separate, living things that were entwined together, and it was only half the size of the rest of the trees surrounding it. It looked lonely that first time Craig had seen it, in the warm sun, surrounded by apple blossoms with green grass carpeting the ground. It looked as if it were in mourning now, in the cold bareness of winter, absent of color, with the only sound being the wind twisting around the branches of the taller trees surrounding it. Craig felt his heart twist as he mentally sent the tree his sympathy. He knew what it was like, to be alone and to feel empty inside. In that same moment he wanted to kick himself. It was a stupid thought. Trees couldn't feel; they couldn't be sad or lonely. It was his own feelings that were reflecting in the site before him and he was sick of them. He had to step back a bit and make his mind focus the reason he'd been looking for this tree.

This was his tree. This was where Jesse had buried his secret and Craig had been allowed to help him. This was the last good memory he had of his first mother. He took a few moments to relish in the memory of her laughter, and the joy that he'd felt that day, but he knew he needed to tell his brothers that this was where they needed to look. He needed to go back to the house so that he could bring Bobby out here to show him. What they needed was right here, under the snow and ice, sheltered by that one lonely tree.

He nearly let his thoughts carry him away into past memories again, to lose his self in the emotions that he connected to the tree; but the cold was starting to sting at his senses. His body was shivering hard, and his toes were numb. It was enough physical discomfort to help him think about what he needed to do.

He had to get warm, which meant going back to the house. He was surprised none of his brothers had come looking for him already. Bobby would probably yell at him for wandering away. He was going to have to explain to his brothers his reason for walking out of the house, and that thought brought back a picture of Harris lying on the floor, in that dark pool barely visible in the dim light inside of the house. He was sure he could smell the coppery scent of blood floating on the air around him. His mind felt fuzzy and a low buzzing noise started to nag at his ears. He closed his eyes and forced his thoughts back, forced his mind to clear away the thoughts that would only cloud it.

He opened his eyes, turned back towards the house, and a force hit him square in the chest, forcing him back. He yelled out as he fell backwards onto the ground with the icy crust cutting into him from every direction. He looked up at the figure hovering above him. The sunlight seeping over the horizon behind the man gave the appearance of a pinkish orange halo around him, the effect blacking out most of the features of the face. But it was enough to that his mind flashed back to the memory of the night he'd been and walked to the bridge, the night he had pissed Bobby off. He remembered the form of a man who had been watching him there, on the bridge, as he had been trying to find comfort in memories of Evelyn Mercer. It had sent shivers down him then, just as it did now. An instant later he was recalling the same man standing on the street outside of Robert's law office, watching the Mercers as they walked through the doors. He'd thought it was his imagination making up Adam Macks stalking him, but now he knew. It hadn't been his imagination or Adam Macks following him or his brothers then.

The form leaned towards him and the grey overcoat made a loud snapping noise in the wind as it was slapped about the man's legs. "Bobby!" Craig screamed with all the force he had inside of him before Harris' fist plowed into the side of his face. For a quick instant, just as his mind reeled dizzily, he was sure he could caught the strong smell of apple blossoms on the air.

* * *

"I did not do this!" Bobby yelled at Angel. "I did not shoot him!"

"Then who did?" Johnny's voice came back strained from his position on the floor, his right thigh bleeding under him.

"Johnny G. I did not shoot you in the fucking ass!" Bobby yelled.

"I did." Jessup Winston spoke weakly from his own position on the floor in the center of the room, one hand pressing hard against his leg to stem the bleeding there, his other hand holding a small caliber handgun he'd pulled out of his coat. "But you shot me first," Was his defense.

Bobby looked at Angel, a smirk forming on his lips. "You see, I didn't shoot anyone. Don't you think you owe me an apology?"

"Fuck you." Angel snapped. "You wanna drop that gun Winston?" He aimed his own gun at the injured man.

Winston let the gun drop to the floor and then gave it a push towards Angel. "It's all yours. Now someone call for an ambulance?"

Bobby gave the man an irritated glare. "Where the hell did you get a fucking gun? You already gave up one piece, where did you have a second one hiding?"

"Does it really matter? Call a fucking ambulance before both of us bleed out of our asses here?" Winston motioned towards Johnny, apparently feeling that if he reminded the Mercers one of their own was hurt that he'd have a better chance of getting medical attention.

"Sure, we'll get right on that one." Jack stepped over to where Angel was standing and leaned over, snatching up Winston's gun. "Just as soon as you tell us what we need to know." He cocked the gun and aimed it carelessly at Winston.

"Jack, what the fuck are you doing?" Angel's voice held an edge to it.

"Yeah, little sister, what the fuck are you doing?" Bobby started to reach for the gun in Jack's hands.

Jack pulled back from Bobby's reach. "I'm sick and tired of the runaround. We need to just waist the fucker now and get it over with." He looked at Bobby. "He ain't doin' us any good alive, hell, he's been more a pain in the ass than anything, hasn't he? All of our problems start and end with Winston."

Winston looked worried, despite the words he spit in Jack's direction. "You ain't gonna shoot me. You need me to back up your story to the cops. With all the trouble Harris has been causing you, you need…"

"We don't need shit from you Winston." Jack cut the man's words off; tension in his throat caused his voice to sound tight and an octave too high. "We've got all we need to cover our asses. You shot Johnny G., which means if we shoot you now it is self-defense," He frowned; his forehead seemed to close in around his eyes as if he were thinking hard. "But, I guess it wouldn't work if I was using your gun, would it." His voice came out as barely more than mumbling as stepped over to Johnny and held his hand down towards him. "Give me your gun Johnny."

"Are you fucking nuts? You're already facing a hearing in just a few hours and here you are talking about shooting him?" Bobby cried out.

"That's right; I'm already facing a hearing, what the hell do I have to lose?" Jack shook his hand in Johnny's face. "The gun," He didn't bother to look at Bobby.

Johnny handed the younger man the gun, a look of surprise plastered across his face.

Jack turned fully to Winston. "Now tell us what exactly we are looking for and where the hell it is?" He sounded almost bored with the question, "Because I'm really tired of all this shit. None of us have had any sleep, you know, that can make a person's finger awfully twitchy."

"The papers for the diamonds and the key to the safe deposit box are in a safe, buried in the orchard. The diamonds are in the safe deposit box. The papers name the bank and the address." Winston breathed the words slowly. "Now call for a fucking ambulance!"

"Why are these diamonds so fucking important Winston?" Jack kept his voice steady. "You could take your legitimate businesses and cut away from the crime, right? Why do you need the fucking diamonds?"

"The diamonds are clean; those diamonds along with some documents and other items in the safe deposit box are the ticket to no one coming after me." Winston growled. "It's the only thing that will keep anyone from coming after you Mercers and the kid too. You really need to think this through before you turn any of it over to the cops." He slid a sideways gaze to Bobby, without turning completely away from Jack. "I've got recordings, I've evidence that I can hold over the heads of a lot of fucking people who would just as soon shoot us all than take a chance on us keeping quiet. If the cops get their hands on any of it, none of our lives are worth a plug nickel. Can you grasp that at all Bobby Mercer?"

Jack grinned and flashed Bobby a smug grin, "That's how you do it Bobby, fuck asking the same question over and over again." He held both guns out towards his brother.

Bobby growled and took the guns. He rolled his shoulders and looked at his brothers, one at a time. Jack looked pleased with himself, actually he was full on himself and it irritated the hell out of Bobby. Okay, so he'd been trying to get Winston to give him the information that the man had just spilled to Jack, so what? All any of this meant was that Jack was getting too cocky, he'd have to put a stop to it soon or he'd never be able to live with him. At the same time he couldn't help but feel that he'd done something right as far as Jack was concerned, maybe the kid was starting to learn a thing or two from his older brother. Yeah, that had to be it; it was Bobby's influence, that's what had spurred Jack on. Okay, so maybe that was a load of shit, but it made Bobby Mercer feel better to think he'd been the one responsible in a roundabout way for Winston spilling his guts while he sat there on the floor bleeding out of his ass, even if he wasn't responsible for the blood its self.

Angel seemed to be thinking hard about something, the look on his face gave that fact away, and Bobby was afraid to ask him what the hell was wrong. There was no telling what was going to come at them next, and leave it to Angel to find it when it did.

Jeremiah was leaning against the wall behind Angel, looking as if he was about to drop on his face. Not that he would feel his face impact with the floor, the man looked like shit. He was exhausted, hell he wasn't even supposed to be there; he was supposed to be at home, taking care of himself and his family. Bobby opened his mouth to ask Jerry just what the hell he thought he was doing there, when his eyes flicked around the rest of the room. "Wait, did one of you shoot in there?" He remembered the sound of a gunshot echoing from the kitchen just about the same time Johnny had come busting through the front door with his own gun blazing.

"Yeah, Harris got here, apparently just minutes before we did." Angel nodded his head. "I don't think he's gonna be messing around with the Mercers anytime soon." He sounded just as cocky as Jack did and Bobby was ready to call him on it. No one was supposed to do the attitude better than him; a fact his brothers seemed to have forgotten.

In the distance the shrill sound of sirens were starting to cut through the morning freeze. "That would be Green." Jeremiah muttered the words, his voice cracking a bit.

"Yeah, and he'll be more than happy to haul your ass off Winston. He's gonna do that, you know." Now it was Bobby's turn to remind his brothers what being the oldest meant. "How many people know about the diamonds and the other shit you got locked away?"

Winston's eyes narrowed. "Harris. That's it."

Bobby studied the man's face for along moment. Okay, he had to believe him. The man wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack, but hell, he was trying to survive, and surviving meant he would keep any evidence he was able to get his hands on as much of a secret as he could. "What about your mother? Does she know about any of this shit?"

"You leave my mother out of this. Don't you dare…" Winston actually looked as if he could really hurt someone right then. It almost could have given Bobby a reason to worry, if the man wasn't holding onto his ass and whimpering every few breaths.

"Hey, no disrespect, I'm just trying to figure out how many people know about the shit you were up to, and if any of them can be trusted. I mean, if your mother knew, I'm sure she wouldn't give that kind of information to people who would want you dead because of it, right?"

"If I go to prison, I'm a dead man, no matter what, you ass hole, don't you get that?" Winston cried out.

"You can cut a deal with Green. He'll work with you, but you gotta be honest with him." Bobby glanced around at his brothers before looking back to Winston. "We leave the shit where it is. No one goes after it, me and mine will forget about it. You forget about any connections you got to my kid." He hadn't realized exactly what was coming out of his mouth until after the words were said. "You don't tell the cops you're his blood. You don't connect him to your family, do you understand me?" He was surprised at how calm he felt as he spoke. "You tell the cops about Harris and the shit that man has been doing, get Jack out his trouble. You clear any doubt about Jeremiah's business, and you make sure no one else fucks around with us. You do that, and we'll give you that fucking key. We'll keep quiet when you make your move and do whatever the hell you're gonna do."

"Bobby." Jeremiah spoke quickly.

"Shut up Jerr'." Bobby didn't look away from Winston. "We won't tell no one shit about what you have or don't have. We don't know shit about it."

"We can't do that Bobby!" Jeremiah cried out.

"The hell we can't, we need this Jerry." Bobby finally looked to Jeremiah. "This is it. This is the end of it, and if we have to deal a little to get what we need, then we are going to deal. We ain't done nothin' wrong here; we just ain't gonna offer up any information."

"It's still wrong." Jeremiah pulled himself away from the wall he'd been leaning against. "We were taught better, and we know better. What the hell have we been fighting for? I thought I was fighting for family, man, and this ain't how I want to win. I want this win, the right way. We gotta be honest with Green, we have to…"

"We don't have a choice." Angel spoke up. "We ain't doin' nothin' Jerr', we're just keeping quiet. We're gonna let shit lay where it is and forget about it. Winston get's what he needs, the charges against Jack will be dropped, you'll be in the clear, no more fucking interference from all sides, and Craig won't be a fucking target. Don't you get that?"

"What the fuck do you mean a target?" Jeremiah looked confused.

"Craig is Winston's nephew." Jack spoke quietly, his words thoughtful. "Fuck, that makes him heir to the throne?" He looked at Bobby. "He's a target for rivals, right; people wanting to move up the food chain, rival gangs wanting to take over?" He shook his head. "That's why Macks wouldn't leave it be. That's why Harris wanted to get his hands on him." He looked at Winston. "You never said shit about bein' Craig's Uncle before, you never got him out of foster care. You let him be legally adopted by our mother. Why was that?"

Winston kept his eyes locked on Bobby. "I figured he was out, why the hell should I drag him back in? He had no idea what he was born into. How could he? He was just a kid."

Now was the moment Bobby was waiting for. Now he got to show his brothers that he wasn't all about hitting and shooting people. He got to show them that he was smarter than they thought, because he had figured something out that obviously they hadn't. "Our Ma knew, didn't she?"

"Not right away." Winston shook his head. "I mean, she might have suspected at first. She couldn't have known until she did some research into Macks, but his connections to the organization were right there, on record. Craig's mother's name, his grandfather, it was all right there for whoever bothered to look; I'm sure your mother was a smart woman, and she was able to make the connections."

"But your name wasn't there, was it?" Bobby asked. "There is no way to connect him to you, is there? There's no way to connect you to your own fucking father, am I right?"

"Like I said before, I was never a part of my father's life until I was old enough to make that mistake on my own. I never carried his name; so no, I'm not listed as family." Winston nodded his head as the sirens drew closer and shriller in the air. "My father knew though, and that's why I ended up where I am now."

"You'll do this my way?" Bobby asked carefully. "Green will work with you. He's a good cop. You've got information that could clean up the local agencies, and the Feds. You can still get out, with a new identity, and you will still have your shit waiting for you. This doesn't have to mean prison, not if you play your cards right."

Winston nodded his head again. "If this get's me killed Mercer, there's gonna be hell for you to face. There are people who will come after you if I'm out of the way, you know that, right?"

"No one is going to die Winston. Enough people have died over this shit. We all want the same thing. We want to live our lives and forget this shit." Bobby looked around the room again, ready to grab hold of Craig and get him out the way before the cops came busting through doors.

Bobby's heart pounded against the inside of his chest as he realized the kid wasn't there. "Where the fuck is Craig?" He fought down the panic that was rising in his gut.

"He was in the kitchen." Jeremiah spoke quietly.

"You left him alone in there with Harris' body?" Jack cried out.

"Christ, Jerr', you're a fucking father, you should know better that that shit!" Bobby had stomped out two steps towards the kitchen door when he was sure he could hear his name singing across the air in tune with the approaching sirens. He turned into the kitchen and took in the sight an empty room. "Fuck!" He looked down at the bloody shoeprints leading from the dark pool that had apparently formed under Harris' wounded body. He wasn't dead. It was a lesson they all should have learned with Macks, but obviously the site of a bloodied, unmoving form seemed to be enough for most people to assume a body was actually dead. "Fuck!" He yelled out and ran for the back door.


	37. Chapter 37

Well, I managed to get this up in less than three months! That's an improvement, right? Let me know what you think!

As always, do not own, make no money.

* * *

**Chapter 37: Too Easy?**

Craig wished for the calm of blackness, a nice warm blanket, and a little bit of peace and quiet. Instead, his head exploded in bright sparkles, releasing a stabbing pain behind his eyes as Harris' fist made contact with the left side of his face. He tried to roll with the punch, towards his right, but Harris grabbed hold of him by both arms and held him down. The boy felt his body go limp as fear took hold of his gut. He thought he heard Bobby's voice somewhere in his head yelling at him to get his ass up out of the snow, followed by Angel's instruction to go for a sensitive area with his fist or a hard kick. Palm to the nose would work, gauge at the eyes; that had worked for him not so long ago. The problem was Harris was holding his arms down. The man's position didn't make it possible for him to knee him and crush the family jewels. The boy was at a loss as to what to do.

"Where is it?" The man's voice sounded weak. Craig barely heard the words and their meaning couldn't get past the sparkles in front of his vision. He felt a warm sensation on his shirt, and thought for a short second that he'd pissed himself. What the hell was Bobby gonna say about that? He'd never let him forget he'd pissed himself. Then reason took over and he realized the warmth was too far up, it was something else; at first he felt relief, but then his brain was stuck on trying to figure out what it was that felt wet and warm.

His vision started to clear about the same time Harris decided he wanted the boy back on his feet. "Where the hell is it?" He tugged at Craig's arms as if he were trying to pull him up. Craig's gaze fell on the blood dribbling down Harris' shirt and onto him, warming the front of his shirt. The realization that Harris was bleeding on him flipped a switch inside of him. He pulled back and was surprised by how easily he was able to break free, though he probably should have expected Harris to be fairly weak with all of the blood he was losing. How the hell had the man found enough strength to get to his feet to start with? He was supposed to be dead, that was the reason Craig had needed to get away from him; a dead body, and all of that blood had been too much for him. Now that blood was all over the front of his shirt. His first instinct was to start ripping at the material, to get it off of him. But the ice and snow under him bit at his skin before he could give into the panic in his gut, and Harris was reaching for him again.

Craig made another attempt to roll to his right and this time he was successful. He got onto his hands and knees and was trying to push himself to his feet when he felt Harris grabbing at him from behind. He kicked his left foot out behind him, more out of panic than a real attempt to fight back, and was surprised when he felt the heel of his shoe make contact with the man's knee. He didn't wait to see what kind of effect his kick had, he scrambled to his feet and tried to put distance between him and the danger Harris represented. He slid in the snow and fell on his knees after maybe five steps. He started to scramble to his feet again, but as he turned to see how close Harris was, his panic turned to surprise. The man hadn't made it any further than the spot where Craig had been lying just seconds before. Craig took the sight in, his brain clicking on every detail quickly, which felt odd since his thoughts had been so blurred just moments before Harris' assault. The man's face looked ashen, and grey. The blood was still dripping from his shirt, staining his coat and the snow under him.

Craig managed to plant his feet under him and stood slowly.

"I should have killed you a long time ago." Harris gasped and blood oozed from between his lips as the words spilled out. His head seemed to hang loosely from his shoulders; it was easy to see the blood loss was starting to effect more than his strength. He was trying to hold his head up, but gave up after several seconds, letting his chin fall to his chest as he struggled to get his footing under him and stand. The realization that Harris wasn't going to stand up, no matter how hard he tried draped around the boy like a blanket, but it sent chills down his back.

"So why didn't you?" Craig really didn't care about the answer, but he felt a need to keep the man talking. Part of him was afraid if Harris stopped talking he'd die right there in front of him; or worse yet find a way to actually carry out his threat.

Harris finally lifted his head so that he could look at the boy, and he managed to hold it up, though it reminded the fourteen year old of the bobble head dolls Bobby used to stick to his dashboard. "I thought I'd be nice." The man sneered, trying to look dangerous, trying to scare the teen, but it had the opposite effect. Craig had never seen anyone look that weak, and the glower appeared more comical to him than threatening.

Craig felt a weak laugh rise in his chest, but it stuck in his throat and sounded more like he was choking when it did escape. "Nice. Yeah, right. You were being nice. You're an ass." He was still trying to keep the man talking, but he didn't know what to say. Where was Bobby? Why hadn't any of his brothers come looking for him? They should have missed him by now.

Harris grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. "Yeah, I'm an ass. It's what I do. I'm good at it, but I don't call the shots, I just carry out orders." Harris's voice sounded strained and shaky as he reached under his coat and pulled out his gun, but his attempt to aim it at Craig was almost laughable to the boy. The man's arm looked almost like a piece of rubber, wavering to and fro as he tried to raise it out in front of him.

The buzzing that had been torturing the boy's ears moments before seemed to get louder, but it morphed as it increased in volume, turning into a siren. He took a step back from Harris, waiting to see what the man would do now that he was swaying on his feet with his gun swinging aimlessly in front of him. "You're dying." Craig spoke the words as the realization hit him. Harris wasn't going to walk away from that spot. He was going to be dead in minutes, maybe less.

Harris laughed; at least Craig assumed it was a laugh, he really couldn't be sure if it was a laugh or a groan as the man spoke. "Maybe I am dying, but I'll be damned if I'm dying alone." His words slurred as he attempted again to raise his arm to aim the gun in Craig's direction.

Craig wasn't afraid. Maybe he should have been, but he didn't have enough energy to spare to be afraid of what was happening at that moment. His body felt numb, so if Harris lucked out and managed to shoot him he might not feel it; but he honestly didn't see any reason to expect Harris to be able to shoot his own foot the way the man was swaying, his arm still swinging unsteadily only half raised.

"Why are you so pissed at us? We never did anything to you. I'd never even met you before yesterday." Craig could barely believe that it had been less than twenty four hours since he'd met Harris at the police station where he was supposed to give him a statement. "If you'd just left us alone, you could have done anything you wanted to and we could have cared less." Craig's own voice shivered under the icy air. "No one would have known anything about Winston, and who he really is. You could have done whatever you wanted to do. My brothers didn't know about any of this, you screwed around with them for no reason."

"You stupid little punk," Harris's words came out broken. "You had the fucking key to everything. We needed the key."

"So why not just ask for it? You were following me. You were following me before my mother died, weren't you? You could have gotten the key anytime." Craig wasn't sure where the words were coming from. His brain was trying to calculate what might be a safe distance to keep between him and the man as he circled around him to try to get back to the house. He stepped carefully, keeping his gaze focused on the unsteady gun.

Harris didn't answer the question; in fact Craig wasn't sure he even heard the question. The man's head was bobbing forwards slightly, but his eyes were locked on the teen, the expression behind them was on that Craig recognized; a combination of hate, and determination. Agent Harris was hell-bent to make someone suffer, for no other reason than it would make him feel good. If it was the last thing he did in this life, he was going to hurt someone, somehow, and Craig was the only person close enough. He had seen the same look in Adam Macks' eyes every day for the first half of his life, and he could identify it anywhere, on anyone.

He still wasn't afraid though, he could see that Harris didn't have enough strength in him to raise his arm up past his own hip. Of course he hadn't expected him to get back on his feet either, so if Harris was strong-minded enough, he might actually manage to cause some kind of damage. Craig still tried to inch his way around Harris, keeping a good ten feet between his self and the death that hovered around the man.

"Craig!" Bobby's voice filled the freeze surrounded them, and it sounded close.

"Bobby!" Craig tried to yell, but it didn't have much force behind it. Maybe he was more scared than he thought, or maybe the look on Harris' face may have had something to do with it. Hell, he didn't want to be around Harris dead or alive, he just wanted to go home. He wanted to wash the blood off of his self before it soaked completely into him. He was starting to freeze on the front of his shirt now, turning stiff and making the air feel colder than it had minutes earlier; and now Harris didn't look so weak. He still looked mean, but the limitations his loss of blood had caused for him seemed to have been warmed over by the sound of Bobby Mercer's voice. Color filled his cheeks, his eyes flicked towards the peak of the small hill he had followed Craig up, knowing that at any moment Bobby Mercer would be coming over it, into view. His seemed to find strength in his legs and his arms as he raised the gun in Craig's direction and managed to stand straight.

"Craig!" Bobby again, closer, his head into view as he made his way up the hill.

"Bobby!" Craig called out a second time, but again, he couldn't seem to get much behind it. His body was turning numb and he couldn't get enough air into his lungs to really yell.

Bobby's face emerged at the crest of the hill, then his shoulders and chest rose out of the white as he made his way up the slope on the opposite side. A wicked grin stretched across Harris' face just moments before he shifted his stance, turning his whole body towards Bobby Mercer, the motion swinging his outstretched arm with the gun to bear down on his new target.

"Bobby!" Craig managed to call out with more force this time, but it was too late. It happened fast, Craig didn't have a chance to react before it was over, and his whole world spun out of control.

* * *

Bobby hit the snow and slid around the first three steps he took, his arms outstretched on either side of him, flapping around in an effort to keep his balance. The trail he was following gave him almost unnoticeable signs that Harris hadn't been forcing Craig to go with him he was trailing the kid. He could see the tracks, and the blood trail. His little brother had been steady on his feet, the spacing of his steps was regular and he'd moved in a straight line. Harris on the other hand had been stumbling, in fact, it looked as if he had fallen and landed in the snow at the bottom of the base of a steep but short incline in the landscape. Bobby's instincts told him Craig had no idea he was being followed.

The sirens were close, maybe coming through the gate in the lane. Bobby couldn't wait for police back up; he had to get to the kid before Harris got his hands on him.

"Why the hell did he leave the fuckin' house to start with?" Angel's voice from right behind him echoed Bobby's thoughts.

Bobby hadn't expected the voice, he thought he was alone. He didn't try to turn back to look at his brother. "He's a kid, he's been through hell and some brilliant fucking geniuses left him alone in a room with a bloody body. Why the hell do you think he left the fucking house?" He couldn't keep the anger and frustration out of his voice. No, it really wasn't his brothers' fault. No, he really didn't blame them; but it was easier than trying to get into any kind of deep, psychoanalytical bullshit concerning the kid. "Don't you think you should be sticking around here to watch Winston?" He moved towards the hill, following the trail.

"Green's here, I think Jack and Johnny G. can deal with one man until Green gets the car parked." Jeremiah answered the question that time.

Okay, Bobby felt a little relieved that he wasn't completely alone at the moment, and the fact that his brothers had left Craig alone in a room with a man they thought was dead didn't bother him as much as it had seconds before. His brain reminded him that he hadn't missed Craig at first either, he had left the kid in there too, and he probably should take part of that accountability on himself, Craig was, after all, his kid.

Maybe he was maturing a little bit, he was actually considering taking on part of the responsibility. He was sure that later, when the excitement had died down, once the danger had passed, he'd manage to not be so fucking mature about the whole thing and he'd blame his brothers again, but for now, he was just happy to have them with him.

Angel and Jeremiah used their long legged strides to catch up to him and flank his sides with Jerry on his left and Angel on his right. None of them spoke as they switched into survival mode. They didn't know what to expect to see when they reached the top of the hill and instincts were kicking in.

Bobby gave the signal at the base of the hill, pointing to his left first. Jerry moved away from him and Bobby counted silently to ten before pointing to his right. Angel hunkered down and moved along the hill. Another ten counts, and then Bobby yelled Craig's name. He moved up the hill awkwardly, trying to stay in Craig's tracks to make it easier to maneuver in the snow. He didn't look to see if Angel or Jerry were climbing the hill, he didn't have to. He knew they would be moving right along with him. He knew them well enough, he'd been through enough shit with them; they knew how to read each other, they'd done it before, more so recently than any of them liked to admit.

Bobby neared the top of the hill, "Craig!" He called out again. He thought he heard a response, but with the wind hissing through the treetops visible on the other side of the hill it was hard to be sure if it was Craig calling back to him, or his wishful thinking making up shit that wasn't there. He needed to hear something; they all needed to have a reference point, to get their bearings. They had no idea what lie on the other side of the hill. Once they cleared the rise, they were going in blind, and they needed to have an idea of what direction to go. If they were focused on one direction and Harris was in another, then they would be shit out of luck.

Bobby glanced to his right, at Angel. Angel gave a slight nod. He thought he heard an answer from the kid. Bobby glanced back to his left, to Jeremiah, who mirrored Angel's move. Yes, they'd heard the kid. He motioned with his fingers to try to see if either of them had an idea how close, or if the kid was to the right or left of dead center. He glanced back and forth between the two, but they both shook their heads.

They were gonna have to go in blind. Bobby gave them both a quick nod and moved on up the hill. "Craig!" He called out again as he reached the top. He could see the trees of the orchard, the pathway that cut down the center of the rows. His gaze stuck on the blood trail, following it as he cleared the top of the hill. Harris was standing there, on the path; Craig was nearby, looking past the gun aimed at him towards his older brother. Harris' body turned quickly, swinging his focus away from the kid, but bringing it to rest on Bobby.

Bobby Mercer watched the muzzle flash, seen the smoke wafting up from the barrel. He could see the hot bullet throwing off a vapor trail as it cut a path across the vastness between the gun and the hill, distorting the air around it. Time seemed to slow down and Bobby felt a sick laugh erupting from his throat. At some point, someone should have just let him have his gas can; he'd wanted to use it a few times over the past couple of months and his brothers had reasoned away the need for it. If he had followed his instincts this wouldn't be happening now, he was sure of that.

If Bobby Mercer died who was going to keep his brothers straight? Someone had to make sure Jeremiah followed through on his project. Without someone to kick him in the ass every so often he'd just give up. There had been too many people using Jeremiah's business ventures as a means to hurt the Mercers, and Jerry would let it beat him.

Angel couldn't get married without his older brother. Someone had to be around to make sure that Loco Ono didn't destroy what little bit of dignity Angel Mercer had left. She'd already stolen his heart, and if she had it her way he would end up all domesticated. Something resembling Jerry, and that was a creepy thought.

What about Jack? Jack was gonna go back to New York and wallow in his heartache if Bobby didn't find a way to stop it from happening. Either that or he would rot in prison for killing a fucking pervert out to ruin them all. Neither possible outcome was good. In prison Jack would turn into a heartless version of Bobby Mercer, and he was better than that. Jack had potential. Who the hell was gonna get Jack out of the mess he was in with the law? The mess Harris had put him in, the mess that never would have ended up at their feet if his brothers had let him soak Winston in gasoline when he wanted to. Yeah, he couldn't let go of the fact that he had been right and no one had believed him.

Then there was Craig. Craig was his kid; he was beginning to understand how the he thought, and why. He needed special treatment. He needed help that his other brothers just couldn't give him. Sure, they would try. He knew Jerry would take over the responsibility of raising the teen, but he had his own family, he had a wife and daughters and that would be his focus, as it should be. Craig would be lost in the cracks of Jerry's life. The kid would pretend, and he'd go through the motions, but he'd never recover and learn how to live a normal life. He was Bobby's, and Bobby needed to be there for him. No matter what, nothing was going to stop Bobby Mercer from living through what was about to happen.

That's what he was thinking when the white hot explosion hit his brain. He fell backwards, down the hill, and felt his body sink down into the icy snow at the bottom as he came to a stop. He waited for the white to clear from his vision, for the deafening ringing that filled the air around him to subside, for feeling to return to his body. He had to get back up and climb the hill again so he could beat the shit out of Harris. He tried to move his arms but he realized he couldn't feel them. He tried to pull his feet under him, again, no feet. His throat constricted as it ached to yell out something, anything, but he couldn't feel the vibrations in his throat or hear the sound of his own voice. Bobby couldn't help but think he was fucked.

* * *

Angel was matching Bobby, moving up the hill, cresting the top at the same moment Bobby did. He glanced over to Bobby, then flicked his gaze to Jerry, they had all timed it even, all three at the top of the hill at the same time. As he returned his attention to the path ahead of him, Harris turned away from Craig in a swift motion took a quick aim on Bobby. Apparently Jerry had seen it coming and was running full speed through the snow, yelling something as he moved. Angel felt his heart racing as he followed Jeremiah's lead, moving his legs as fast as he could towards Harris, but Jerry reached him first, he dove from five feet away, his head barreled into Harris' gut just as the FBI agent's finger pulled the trigger. Angel followed the trajectory of the bullet all the way back to the top of the hill, to Bobby; and he watched as his brother's head snapped to the left and then he slid down the hill out of sight.

Angel felt his legs stop moving. The sound of the gun blast echoed through the trees, reverberating over and over, each wave less intense than the last, until all that was left was silence so heavy a quiet ringing took over. He waited for Bobby to come back up over the hill. He didn't. He turned back towards the path to find Jeremiah sitting on top of Harris, his fists pounding the man. It wasn't until then that Angel heard the sounds of Jeremiah's fist making contact with Harris. He managed to get his feet moving again. "Jerry!" He yelled when he reached Jeremiah. He grabbed hold of him and pulled him off Harris, who wasn't moving.

"You son of a bitch," Jeremiah gasped the words in Harris' direction, but Harris didn't move. Jerry spotted the gun lying next to Harris and gave it a kick, sending it spinning across the ice crust coating the snow a distance that put it out of reach just in case the man came back from the dead a second time.

Angel didn't take the time to check Harris closely, but he did glance down at the blank eyes, staring straight up at the sky, which at some point had brightened up pink and orange. The man didn't deserve to have such a beautiful view as his last. Instead of worrying too much about Harris who was obviously dead this time, he turned towards Craig who was staring towards the hill, his eyes wide, his mouth partially opened, as if he were in the middle of saying something.

"Hey, hey, he's okay. He's okay." Angle lied, but he didn't know what else to say right then. "We need to go check on him, but he's okay." He shrugged out of his coat and slid it around the boy in a swift motion. "Come on."

Craig didn't seem to hear Angel but he let the man pull an arm around him and guide him away from Harris. Jeremiah ran ahead of them as they moved towards the hill. "Bobby!" He yelled out as he slid over the edge of the hill and out of sight.

Angel waited to hear Bobby's response; expected a long string of curses to be pouring out of Bobby Mercer's mouth. Instead there was only wind, and Jerry's voice saying things that were too quiet to made out. As he managed to move Craig closer to the hill he could see red and blue lights flashing against the barn, the house and the white of winter spread out around them, clashing against the beauty of the sunrise that had graced them. That should have been Harris' last sight, police and ugly lights. There were more cars than Angel had expected. More uniforms and suits than there should have been. What the hell? Did Green bring the entire police force?

Maybe it was easier to concentrate on the police, the men going into the house and the figures running towards them. If Angel looked down at that moment, he could see Bobby lying in the snow, and he didn't want to look. He didn't want to look down and see a dead brother. After all the hell they'd been through, none of them were supposed to die. They'd nearly lost Jack, and even though Angel would never have admitted it to anyone, ever, Bobby was the one who got them through everything; he was the oldest; he wasn't supposed to be capable of dying.

Craig was pulling away from him, tugging his way down the hill, leaving Angel standing at the top. Angel sucked in a deep breath and dared to let his eyes shift downward. Bobby's body was lying face down in the snow, blood staining the snow under his head.

"Bobby, come on man, talk to me." Jeremiah yelled. He grabbed Bobby's shoulders and rolled him over. "Talk to me Bobby!"

"Bobby! Bobby, get up! Get up!" Craig was still sliding down the snowy hill. He wasn't yelling, but it sounded desperate and panicked. "Please get up!"

Angel couldn't let the kid see Bobby's dead eyes when Jeremiah flipped him over, out of the snow. He focused on Craig, followed him down the hill and reached for him just as Jerry managed to get Bobby turned. "Craig…" He started to tell the boy not to look, tried to turn him away, to hug onto him so he couldn't see.

"Bobby?" Jack's voice broke the air. Angel looked up in time to see Jack, Green and Johnson approaching them.

They all seemed to gather around the still form lying at their feet. No one said anything. Jeremiah was on his knees, next to Bobby. Angel was sure he could hear Jerry sniffling. Jack looked shell shocked, the same as Craig. Angel cringed as he realized he forgot about protecting Craig from the sight, it was too late to worry about that, the boy was already looking down at his older brother. Thank God Bobby's eyes were closed, it was bad enough looking as it was, it would have been worse if his eyes had been open. Blood had soaked the right side of the man's shirt and coat; it was still running from a crease just above Bobby's ear. The snow under him was stained red as well.

"What happened?" Jack's voice trembled.

No one answered, no one could. Angel felt tears sting at his eyes, he looked up at the sky. It was wrong. Harris had got to see that view in his last moments, the sunrise colors of a new morning. It was just wrong on so many levels that a man so evil could have such a beautiful sight in front of him when he died while Bobby had been face down in the ice and snow. What the hell were they going to do now? They had been fighting to keep themselves alive, and together as a family. No matter what anyone said, they all knew that without Bobby, their family would probably fall apart. He had always been the glue to hold them together. He was the one who made them stick together even when they wanted to give up. It had been that way from the beginning.

Sure Evelyn Mercer had brought each of them home, but Bobby had bound them all together, made them know what it was like to have a big brother to look out for them, to protect them when they needed it and to beat the shit out of them if they crossed that fine line between being a smart ass and simply being an ass.

Green started talking, and at first his voice was nothing but babbling to Angel's ears. After a few seconds he looked away from the clouds and let the tears fall down his face. Green was talking into a radio, ordering someone to send paramedics. Activity around them was picking up, more uniforms moving past them, up the hill, to check on Harris' body.

"He's still bleeding." Jack's voice sounded choked.

Angel looked at the younger man, "Jack…" He didn't know what to say. "Come on, let's get Craig somewhere warm." He reached for the teen. He knew he needed to get both of his little brothers away from Bobby.

Craig was no longer looking down at Bobby, he was looking at Jack. "Why isn't there a bullet hole?" His voice sounded small, and he looked confused.

Everyone around them seemed to stop moving. Jerry looked at Angel, Angel looked at Craig, and Craig was still looking at Jack. Jack looked at Angel. "He's still bleeding." He repeated the words over hacking sob. "He can't die." He shook his head quickly.

Angel shifted his gaze to Jack and opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, but praying something worthy of his mother came out. He couldn't let Jack lose it in front of Craig. They had to stay strong for each other. "Jack, what the hell would he say to you right now?"

"What the fuck? Jack, you fairy, are you cryin'?" A voice drifted around on the wind, faint, barely audible.

Angel nodded his head, amazed at how real it sounded to him. Bobby's voice, giving Jack hell just like he always did. He dared another look down at his big brother just as Jeremiah stood quickly, looking as if he'd been jolted by good bolt of electricity. When Jerry turned his tear streaked face towards Angel, his eyes were wide as saucers and his mouth was working as if he were trying to say something. Jerry finally turned to Green, "Get them paramedics over here!"

Angel was stunned, unable to pinpoint what was going on with Jerry. He fixed his gaze on Bobby for a long moment as his brain processed what he was looking at. Bobby Mercer was still bleeding from a crease just above his ear. He wasn't bleeding from a bullet hole. In fact, the damage to Bobby's head should have been much worse. "Bobby!" He pushed away from Craig, dropped to his knees next to his oldest brother, on the opposite side that Jeremiah had been kneeling. "You son of a bitch, you didn't get shot!" He felt a laugh rising from his chest. "The bullet grazed you!" He shook Bobby hard, grabbed hold of his brother's hand and reached out to feel his throat for a pulse.

Bobby's eyes flittered slightly before they cracked open. He looked up at Angel. "What the fuck are you laughing at?" His voice came out slurred and weak as he reached up with his free hand and swatted Angel's hand away. "I thought Jack was the fairy, what the hell are you doin' Angel, trying to feel me up while I'm out cold?"

"You, man, only you can deflect bullets with that hard head of yours!" Angel couldn't stop the unmanly giggle that erupted from deep inside. He looked up at Jack. "He ain't dead! He ain't dead!" He turned back to where he'd left Craig. "Come here, he ain't dead." He reached his hand out and grabbed the boy's hand, pulling him forward, to let him see that Bobby was okay. Well, maybe not okay, but he wasn't dead. He didn't expect Craig to pull back from him like he did. "Craig, he's okay, I told you he was okay, right?" He reached again, but Craig stepped quickly behind Jack, refusing to look or to get any closer.

Angel looked back down at Bobby, piecing it all together as he studied his brother's injury. The bullet had grazed his head. What Angel had thought was the bullet making an impact and slamming Bobby's head to the side, had actually been Bobby following his instincts and ducking his head to the left in an attempt to dodge the bullet. It had worked.

Jerry returned to his position on his knees on the other side of Bobby. "Man, we thought we'd lost you." He choked out the words.

"Harris?" Bobby moaned and tried to sit up.

"You just lie there and keep still." Jerry ordered, his voice holding a little authority in it. "Harris is dead, no reason to worry about him. You're down for the count, that makes me the senior brother and you will listen."

Bobby's face pulled a grimace, but Angel was sure it wasn't because of any pain he might be in. Bobby Mercer didn't like being told to stay down and to listen. Bobby looked over Angel's shoulder to Jack, and then to Craig who seemed to be hiding behind Jack. "Baby boy, you okay?"

Craig didn't answer, and the lines around Bobby's eyes deepened. "Get him the hell out of here. Get him home." He grunted as he tried once again to pull himself up out of the snow with no success. Jeremiah's hand planted hard on the elder Mercer's chest, holding him down and effectively preventing him from trying a third time to rise. "Someone get Craig and Jack both out of here. They need to be away from this shit." Bobby's voice was laced with frustration.

"Settle down Bobby, we'll deal with it, okay? You gotta trust us." Jeremiah looked at Angel. "You get them both out of here." He gave a nod in the direction of Craig and Jack. "Jack has a hearing soon, we need to get this shit taken care of here and get moving."

Angel looked closely at Jeremiah, taking in the tired lines around his eyes. "No, I'll stay here, you take them. You need to get home and try to get a little rest. You can take them with you, grab a short nap, and then get Jack to the court house on time. I'll meet you there." He reached out and rested a hand on Jeremiah's shoulder. "Go on, I've got this." He gave him a small smile.

Jeremiah looked up at Green, as if he were waiting for an okay from the detective to move.

Green nodded his head. "I need statements, but we can get Angel's and Bobby's now, and then yours and Jack's later, at the court house." He spoke quickly. "We have Winston too, and from what I could hear he was rambling on and on to some of the officers back there."

Jeremiah looked at Bobby, "We'll see you soon Bobby. Don't give no one a hard time now, let them check you out and go to the hospital to get that head of yours examined." He laughed quietly and then stood.

Angel waited until his brothers were trudging through the snow, back towards the house before he looked up at Green and asking, "So now what?"

"What do you mean?" Green looked confused.

"Harris, he's dead." Angel spoke quietly. "He was threatening Jack and Craig, talking about setting us all up, and we struggled, and my gun went off and…"

"Angel, shut the fuck up." Green sighed and shook his head. "We'll get your statement after we get Winston's. Right now, I'm looking at Harris as a dirty agent, and what happened was a result of his illegal dealings. We all know Winston is gonna confirm it. You even got the evidence to prove it, remember?"

"You don't have anything to worry about, so long as you all just tell the truth. You were working for the Detroit P. D. after all." Johnson made the comment casually.

"We were what?" Angel frowned.

"The Mercers have been doing some consulting work for Johnson here, don't you remember that? He needed some help breaking my case, being as how I'm not on active duty at the moment. After being shot and all." Green spoke sarcastically as he drew in a deep breath. "No offense boys, but I need to get back to the car, sit down for a while. My doctor would be having a hissy fit right now if he knew I was doing this. I'm supposed to be at home, in bed, convalescing." He turned and started walking back towards the house.

Bobby sat up, but he grabbed hold of Angel's arm to prevent himself from falling back into the snow. "Come on, let's go."

"You are waiting for the paramedics." Angel looked at Bobby. "Man, you scared the shit out of us, brother." He spoke quietly.

"You should know by now Angel, I'm a fucking super hero. I can dodge bullets." Bobby looked in the direction Green was walking. Angel followed Bobby's gaze. Three paramedics were headed their way, dragging a stretcher along with them.

"Looks like you get to ride out of here." Angel joked, "You lucky bastard."

Angel stayed with Bobby while the paramedics tended to him. He went back to the emergency squad with them when they carried him there. He felt sorry for the poor guys trying to deal with the wounded Bobby Mercer in one squad and Johnny G. in another, but he couldn't stop himself from chuckling every so often; especially when one of young men tried to wipe blood away from Johnny's ass and was rewarded by being shoved out the door of the other emergency vehicle.

Angel grinned while he listened to Bobby cursing the medics and watched him slap at their hands, trying to get them to leave him alone, even though the young men didn't deserve it. To him it meant that Bobby Mercer was gonna be just fine. Maybe it meant that the Mercer luck was changing, for the better.

Now, they had to concentrate on Jack, on getting him out of the trouble Harris managed to bury him in. Their lives could get back to normal after Jack's hearing. Well, as close to normal as any Mercer could expect that it. He could go home to his Sofi, lose himself in her and start a real life, make a real home and really live. Angel Mercer almost felt happy; except for that little nagging itch in the back of his brain. Something was telling him that they couldn't expect it to be this easy. Everything was ending too nice and neat for them. Not that it had been easy, but it felt as if there hadn't been enough gun fire, or speeding cars to really make this feel right. He couldn't help but think there was a piece of the puzzle they were missing, something important that they were forgetting. It couldn't be this easy. Another part of his brain was screaming at him to not jinx it by expecting something else to happen.

Angel waited until the medics were ready to close up the squad and transport Bobby to the hospital before he went to find Johnny's car. It wasn't until he found Jack's new favorite piece of junk parked amongst the police cruisers and sedans that he realized Johnny's car wasn't there. Of course it made sense; Jeremiah would leave Angel with the small, compact, piece of shit Gremlin, knowing that he could barely fit through the door. Angel looked up at the sky, which was considerably brighter now than it had been twenty minutes before. "Ma, next time I think something is looking too easy, kick me in my ass, please?" He opened the car door and started contorting his limbs so that he could manipulate himself into place behind the wheel. Yep, this was more like it, nothing easy about this.


	38. Chapter 38

Let me know what you think!

Do not own, make no money :)

* * *

**Chapter 38: Emotional**

Craig sat in the back seat of Johnny's car, listening to Jack and Jerry discussing the logistics of their morning; who needed to be where and when. He hugged at himself and pulled deep into Angel's coat, curling into the corner just behind the driver's seat. Now that he was warming up he was starting to feel his arms, legs, and the wet toy rabbit he'd tucked under his shirt and secured there by stuffing half of it down his pants. The cold sensation caught him off guard until his confused brain figured out what it was. He reached under the coat and then the shirt to pull the stuffed toy free. He needed something to concentrate on other the visions of Bobby Mercer being shot in front of him and the rabbit was the only thing he had. He subconsciously cradled the wet fur close to him and used Angel's coat to soak up as much of the moister as he could.

He was trying very hard not to let the grey haze of numbness take over his brain, though it was tingling deep inside, spurring up flashes of color whenever there was an unexpected noise. He felt confused, and tired; but strangely anxious at the same time. Every time he managed to focus on the blue rabbit in his hands, his brain found a way to pull him back to the orchard, flashing the picture of Bobby coming towards him and then his head snapping to the side. Angel's voice, yelling at him that Bobby was fine, he was okay. Angle had choked on his words though, he'd sounded as if part of him was dying as he spilled the lies out. Bobby had just been shot in front of them, how could he be just fine? Harris had been determined to kill, he hadn't really cared who he killed in the end, but it was going to be someone, and he'd taken aim on Bobby Mercer. The man had gone from being too weak to hold his own head up to somehow having enough strength to get on his feet, take aim and fire a gun.

The image of Bobby lying face down in the snow wouldn't leave his head. He'd been sure the man was dead, and at that moment, the familiar stabbing of loss had gripped his chest; loss that he wasn't capable of dealing with again so soon after losing Evelyn Mercer. Only minutes later Bobby had been cracking a smart assed remark and everyone had been relieved and seemed to think everything was just fine. Yeah, Bobby was alive, but the damage had been done; the sound of Bobby's voice hadn't brought relief or joy, it had been painful. Craig didn't understand the emotions that were surging inside of him. Why did he feel as if his world had come to an end? Bobby wasn't dead and still it felt as if a vice had tightened around his heart and was squeezing so hard he could barely breathe.

He remembered the fear that had taken hold of him when Evelyn was murdered. It was there now, like a piece of bad food hung up in his throat, and he couldn't swallow it down. He was tired of daring to have hope for anything, only to have it quite literally shot down in front of him.

What if being almost killed was enough to make his brothers, especially Bobby, decide they were tired of him and all of the trouble that came with him? The same fears as always, only magnified a hundred times, seemed to be gripping at him from the inside and he couldn't stop it. After Evelyn had been killed he'd been sure his brothers would get rid of him, they had never liked him. Once he'd realized they weren't going to send him away, he worried about them finding out the truth of what happened the night Evelyn was murdered, certain that would piss them off enough to decide to get rid of him. It hadn't happened; if anything it had been the opposite. It seemed the worse things got the tighter Bobby Mercer held onto him. Maybe this would be what made Bobby hate him.

If this didn't do it, something would. No matter what though, Craig couldn't stand the idea of any of his brothers being hurt any more. He wanted to belong, but it was becoming clear that his brothers would only keep getting hurt. It had to stop. No matter how much he craved it, the closer he got to Bobby and the rest of his brothers the more dangerous it was. They would all end up dead and it would be his fault.

If Bobby had died out there at the farm that very morning it would have been his fault. He was mentally going over everything that had happened and he knew if he had stayed in the house, forced himself to walk around Harris' still form in the kitchen and join his brothers in the other room, Bobby probably never would have been shot. If he hadn't been with them to start with Adam Macks never would have gone after the Mercers and Jack wouldn't be facing prison for shooting the monster. If he had never been adopted by Evelyn Mercer, she could still be alive. Things could have been different for his mother and brothers, they would have been better off without him. He had to be careful, he was going to get his entire family killed, everyone he loved and cared about would be gone and it would be his fault.

He could feel familiar walls snapping into place around him, the walls that always went up whenever he needed to their protection. The walls that his brothers had managed to tear away over and over. He wanted them there now. He needed them now more than ever. He couldn't deal with what had happened that morning without closing out the rest of the world. He was tired of trying to deal with one disaster after another. His life was nothing like it had been just a few months earlier.

His fingers ached to hold a pencil and sketch pad. He needed to empty everything out of his head, get rid of it so it couldn't hurt him. He needed to hide behind the paper and force the memories of the past day to disappear onto the page so he didn't have to face any of it.

"Hey, did you hear me?" Jack's voice brought the boy out of his thoughts. Craig looked towards the front seat to find Jack was looking back at him.

"What?" Craig asked; his fingers involuntarily squeezed around the stuffed rabbit.

Jack's forehead wrinkled up. "I said you can go on with Jerry. You need to get a shower and some sleep. Just stay at Jerry's today, until we hear what's going on with Bobby. There's no reason for you to go to this thing." His voice was quiet.

It took a second for the meaning of Jack's words to sink in. He was referring to the hearing. Craig gave a slight nod and turned his head to look out the window.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jack asked.

"He's fine. He's just tired. Trust me, I know how he feels." Jerry spoke quickly. "Here we are." He pulled the car to a stop in front of the Mercer home. Craig didn't bother to look up at the house. If he looked, he wouldn't be able to control his actions; he'd bolt from the car and run for the safety of home.

"Well, I guess I'll see you soon?" Jack was obviously talking to Jerry.

"I'm gonna go home and shower. We've got a couple of hours, you should try to grab a little sleep; I'm going to. It wouldn't look good to walk into that hearing looking like death warmed over." Jerry spoke quietly, but he hesitated for a few seconds before continuing. "It's all good Jackie-poo, it's gonna work out in your favor, ya know that, right?"

"Yeah, right, I know." Jack opened the car door. "I've got Green and Johnson on my side, Robert has everything under control, and Harris is dead so he can't go in there and fuel the fire with his bullshit." His words ran together and his voice trembled slightly.

"You got your brothers too." Jerry added.

"Yeah," Jack's voice seemed to brighten slightly. "I've got my brothers."

Craig didn't turn his head to watch Jack get out of the car. Instead he looked across the street at the rusted out Grand Torino parked there. It looked worse than the Gremlin Jack had attached himself to. He wondered which of the neighbors had been desperate enough for wheels to take possession of it. Allowing his thoughts to focus on the car helped him to block out the unpleasantness that was trying to stir around in his brain.

"Craig, I'll see you later." Jack spoke from the open front passenger's door.

"Yeah," Craig didn't turn towards his brother. He imagined Jack was standing there, leaning in through the door, but he still refused to look in his direction. He realized at that moment, it was more than just the idea of seeing the house; he didn't want to look at his brother. He'd watched Bobby take a shot from Harris that morning, he'd been sure Bobby was dead, and who was to say that he wasn't hurt worse than they thought? He could still die. What if he looked at Jack and someone came out of hiding and shot him while he was looking? It was a stupid fear, but it was there, as real as any fear he'd ever felt. He was losing his brothers, he could feel it.

Even if he didn't die, what if this was the last time he seen Jack? What if Harris' accusations carried weight at this hearing whether the son of a bitch was dead or not? What if the man's lies had the effect that he'd wanted them to from the start? If that happened Jack wouldn't come home after the hearing. He would never come home again. And who was going to believe anyone with the last name of Mercer over an FBI agent? Jack was screwed, just like the rest of his brothers; just like Craig. They were all screwed, and nothing was ever going to be okay. Craig didn't understand what they all kept fighting for.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay, you know that, right?" Jack leaned towards the back seat, Craig couldn't' see him, but oddly enough he could feel his brother's movements, and tell from his voice that he'd gotten closer.

"Yeah," Craig's voice felt weak, and it gave away the fact that he was lying to Jack, agreeing with his words even though he didn't believe in the meaning behind them.

"Hey, where are his pills?" Jack spoke quickly, "He needs those."

"They're at my place. I took them there from the hotel." Jerry spoke calmly.

A heavy, still quiet fell over them and it was almost deafening. Jack didn't move and Craig was sure he could feel stares boring into him. He wanted to yell at Jerry and Jack both to leave him alone, to stop looking at him, but he knew it would sound stupid if he actually said the words, _'Stop looking at me'_.

"Jack, you'd better get goin', we've got a tight schedule to keep to." Jerry's voice was almost a whisper. "And I really need to get home and grab some sleep man. You should try to get a little sleep too."

"I know." Jack muttered. "Craig, please look at me?" His hand came across the seats and rested on Craig's right arm.

Craig didn't acknowledge that he felt Jack's hand, or that he heard his words. He stared hard at the Grand Torino but didn't really see it.

'Okay." Jack pulled back. "See ya soon Jerr'." He shut the car door a little too hard before the sound of his footsteps breaking against the ice and snow crunched the air.

Jerry talked as he drove, but Craig tried to sink further into the car seat and block out the words. He didn't want anyone to talk to him; he didn't want to have to talk back. Maybe he could make himself disappear. He could remember trying to make himself disappear when he was small and though he was old enough now to know it wouldn't work, he still willed himself to be invisible, untouchable.

Jerry parked the car along the curb in front of the house. Craig followed his brother to the house and through the front door. Camille met them at the door, approaching Jerry as if she'd been worried she'd never see him again. Craig didn't wait for his sister-in-law to take notice of him. He made his way quickly up the steps to the guest room he'd become so familiar with lately and kicked the shoes off of his feet. He probably should have taken his shirt off or asked about taking a shower, but he moved for the bed, curled up on top of the covers, held the toy rabbit close to him and closed his eyes.

He could hear Jerry and Camille talking in quiet voices below him for a short time, and then there were footsteps in the hall and at the door of the room. Craig ignored the sounds and the hand that gently brushed against his forehead, reminding him of his mother. He knew it had to be Camille, Jerry could never be that motherly, no matter how paternal he had become since his daughters had been born.

No words were spoken, and Camille retreated without saying a word. Craig strained to listen to any noises in the house, but it didn't take long for the long stretch of quiet to dull his senses. He started to feel as if he was floating, and soon he was drifting off into much needed sleep.

It seemed he'd barely lost touch with reality when he was sucked back to awareness by Jeremiah's hand patting him on the arm. "Craig, come on, I need to talk to ya." His voice was quiet.

Craig felt his eye lids crack open against his will and then slammed back closed when the air seemed to burn into them like acid. "What?" He couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice. Jerry was sitting on the bed next to him, and he didn't understand why.

"I know you're tired, okay? I'm tired too. I'm getting ready to go. Camille is gonna be right downstairs if you need anything." Jerry spoke as if he was irritated. Not that the teen really cared, Jerry could be as pissed as he wanted to be, it didn't mean he had to act any different. He felt pissed to, and he would act it if he felt like it.

"Fine," Craig muttered and rolled away from Jeremiah.

Jerry sighed loudly. "I know it's been hell Craig, but once we get this hearing over with things will be just fine." Jerry didn't move. "I wish we could really talk, but I ain't got much time right now. I just thought you'd want to know that Angel called. He said Bobby's got one hell of a gash on his head, but we knew that. He's got a concussion and the doctor wants to keep him for observation. You know him though, he says he ain't hangin' out at no hospital; he's already bitchin' at the doctors, tryin' to get out of there. Don't know who's gonna win that one, but my money is on Bobby. He wants to be there for Jack's hearing."

Craig ignored the words. When he thought about Bobby his brain brought back the picture of the man being shot, the snapping motion of his head. The pain of watching his brother die, even if it was technically an inaccurate memory, surged deep in his chest; it brought the need to feel his mother's arms around him and to hear her words comforting him.

"Okay, I'm going. Camille is right downstairs, and she's got your pills. You take them when you get up, okay? I'll call as soon as we know anything." Jeremiah stood and walked to the door. "You get some sleep, maybe when you wake up the rest of us will be back."

Craig listened to Jerry close the door as he walked out. He closed his eyes, but he wasn't sure he could return to the sleep he'd found just a short time before. He could hear the muffled, faint voices of his brother and his wife below. Camille didn't sound happy, but Jerry's voice stayed calm. Craig tried to figure out what they were talking about; it sounded to him as if they were arguing. Jerry was supposed to be leaving, he was supposed to get Jack to the court house in time for the hearing, but it seemed he talked to Camille for a long time before the sound of the front door echoed dully against the floor.

The teen tried to find the blissful nothingness he'd managed to fall into earlier. He didn't want to think about what might happen with Jack. He didn't want to think about Bobby or the speed at which he had fallen away when Harris fired the gun. He didn't want to think about Jessup Winston, also known as Jesse, the nice man who had managed to find a way for him and his mother to escape the reality of Adam Macks for a little while. He didn't want to let his tired brain try to fill in the blanks of his faded and warped recollections of the time he'd spent on that farm with Jesse and the woman who had been his mother when it was convenient for her. He didn't want to think about any of what had happened at that same farm that very night, or morning, whatever the hell it was.

One thought seemed to stick in his head and he couldn't get past it. Everyone he cared about ended up dead. Everyone who cared about him ended up dead or hurt. He had lost Evelyn, his Mom, the only person who had ever really known him, the only person who could ever really understand him. He couldn't stand the idea of losing anyone else. His gut ached, his heart ached. He didn't want to be by himself right then, he wanted his brothers. He wanted to feel Bobby's arm resting around him, making him feel safe. He tried to push the aching down, somewhere deep inside so he didn't have to deal with it. He couldn't need his brothers; he couldn't let himself need Bobby.

If he'd learned anything from being Adam Macks' son, it was that he couldn't have the kind of life that most kids had. And no matter how much he wished it was different, he was still Adam Macks' son; he wasn't Bobby Mercer's son. He wasn't even his brother, not really. He had spent a lot of time blaming his brothers for the gap that had always been between him and them, feeling as if they didn't want him, but the truth was he'd been avoiding letting himself belong since the day Evelyn Mercer had taken him into her home.

He'd known even then that he couldn't let anyone close, it was too dangerous. He wanted it more than anything, so much that he'd dared to think it could happen. Lately he'd let himself think he could belong, he'd let down his defenses too many times to count. It had come back to haunt him over and over, and still he'd given in to the aching inside. He couldn't let that happen again. He couldn't let what he wanted be what destroyed his brothers. He loved them and didn't want to be the reason their lives were ruined. They'd been lucky so far, but everything that had happened to the Mercer family in past couple of months had been his fault. Maybe not directly, maybe it was other people who caused it, but ultimately it was because of him. Bad things happened to the people he loved.

The image of Bobby's head snapping to the side flashed in his brain for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He sat up and quickly rubbed the tears clear with his hands. "No, I'm not going to." He muttered to himself. He wondered how long he could keep his emotions in check. There were other things more important going on around him; he didn't need to lose control, not now. He needed to keep himself calm.

His brothers had too much going on for him to cause any problems. Bobby was in the hospital, they had to explain what had happened to the cops. They had to get Jack out of trouble. They had to fix the damage that had been done to Jeremiah's project. They still had the insurance companies to deal with, what with the cars that were totaled when Jeremiah's building blew up. They had never gotten all of that mess taken care of, and now there was more piling up on top of all that. They didn't need his problems on top of all of that.

Craig swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood quickly. He was tired, he felt sluggish and off balance, but he slowly made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen, where Camille was washing dishes.

"It's quiet." Craig muttered while he leaned his right shoulder into the door frame for support.

Camille turned and looked at the boy. Her eyes were rimmed red and looked a little puffy. She wasn't wearing any make up, but she looked pretty, like she always did. "What are you doing awake? Jeremiah said you'd probably sleep for hours."

Craig gave his shoulders as much of a shrug as he could manage, seeing as how he was using his right one to support him in the doorway. "I guess it's too quiet." He muttered.

"Sit down. Are you hungry?" Camille dropped the dishrag into the sink and quickly dried her hands. Her actions almost seemed empty, as if she really wasn't thinking about what she was doing. Craig could tell she'd been crying, but he had no idea why. She almost seemed irritated at the same time, letting out a sigh as she put the towel on the counter.

Craig didn't move towards the table. "No, I'm not really hungry." His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

"Not hungry." Camille gave him a look. One Craig had recognized as being reserved for Bobby when he was being as ass. "Don't lie to me." She snapped the words at him.

"I don't want to be any trouble Camille." Craig suddenly wished he'd stayed upstairs.

Camille closed her eyes and leaned back against the counter. "I'm sorry Craig. It's been a long night."

"Where are the girls?" Craig thought maybe they could talk about something other than him being hungry, because honestly at that moment, he didn't think he could get any food past the stone settling into his throat.

"The girls are with my parents, again. Mom and Dad picked them up early so they wouldn't be here when Jerry came home. I thought he'd be coming home and going to bed and might need some peace and quiet. Instead, he came home, napped on the couch and then got up and left." Camille's words still carried the same tone. "I shouldn't have expected anything else from him; you'd think I'd know better by now." She wasn't looking at Craig, she was staring past him. Craig got the impression she wasn't really talking to him at that moment.

"Maybe I should go upstairs." Craig muttered and started to leave the kitchen.

"No, you need to eat." Camille walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a small dish filled with hardboiled eggs. "Sit. I'll get a couple of eggs for you and make some toast."

Craig hesitated and then stepped over to the table. The frustration was dripping from Camille at that moment and the boy would have preferred to put some space between him and the vibrations she was putting off. He wasn't sure why he'd left the safety of the guest room and come downstairs. Maybe he thought being around someone else might help him feel better, or make it possible for him to ignore the thoughts that had been bombarding him in the quiet of solitude.

"I mean, it's not like he's made this family his priority, not once since everything came to a head with Victor Sweet. We can't pay the bills, and what does he do? He spends his days roamin' 'round with Bobby, or Angel. Says he's gotta take care of business. What business is he takin' care of? Not the electric bill, that's for certain. I've been scrimpin' and managing as best as I can, but there is only so much a wife can do when she'd tryin' to do it alone, with no man by her side. And that's how it feels lately, like I'm in it alone." Camille was keeping her voice quiet, but Craig could hear most of the words. She was mumbling and shaking her head as she got out the bread and started making toast. She finally fell quiet as she picked up one of the eggs and cracked it hard against the counter to break the shell. She hit it just a bit too hard, well maybe more than a bit. Craig held his breath and watched as she picked her hand up, revealing the remains of the hardboiled egg. He opened his mouth and started to say that he really wasn't that hungry, but it wasn't fast enough.

"And you know it's not like I don't understand. I do. I loved Miss Evelyn; I stood behind him when he needed to help go after Sweet. I know Sweet would have come after him and all of you boys. I know his family is important to him and I never want to have to make him choose between one family and another." Camille grabbed the dishtowel off of the counter and used it to wipe up the egg. "I want him to have a good, strong relationship with all of his brothers, even Bobby. I mean, he missed his brothers. He was so close to them when he was a kid." Camille walked over to the trash can and tossed the towel into it.

"Camille, you just…" Craig started to point out to his sister in law that she'd just thrown away a perfectly good towel, but thought twice of it when she turned towards him.

There seemed to be a fire behind her eyes that Craig had never seen before. "You know, I married Jeremiah because I love him. That hasn't changed. I put him first because I love him. He's the reason I work so hard to keep his house nice, and raise his daughters as best as I can. I just always thought it was a two way street. I never put my sister ahead of anything Jeremiah wanted or needed, why does he constantly put his brothers before me and his daughters?"

Craig felt very awkward, seeing as how he was one of those brothers Camille was talking about. To top it all off he was the reason there had been so much trouble for his family lately. He swallowed hard and gave his shoulders a slight shrug. "I'm sorry Camille." He muttered.

"He keeps telling me I can't make him choose. He's right, I can't. I don't want to make him choose. I should be able to expect his priorities to lie right here, on his own front door step." Camille didn't seem to hear Craig's quiet words. She sounded so dejected and lonely.

"But he…" Craig tried to sound reassuring, but he was at a loss as to what to say to make Camille feel any better. He wanted to help her, he really did, but he had the impression she wasn't talking to him, she was just talking. She seemed to be pretty emotional at the moment, just letting all of her thoughts spill out of her mouth.

"I mean, I know everything that has been happening, none of it is his fault. I know that, but he just doesn't know when to step back and let someone else take care of it. He thinks that without him, no one else can do anything. He thinks he has to be there to keep his brothers from getting killed. I always thought he was exaggerating facts when he used to tell me about Bobby and all the trouble he used to get them all into. But he wasn't exaggerating. He wasn't telling me all of it, that's what it was." Camille walked back over to the counter and picked up another egg. Her emotions seemed to have swung hard in the direction of pure anger.

"Are you on your period?" Craig didn't realize he'd actually spoken the words until Camille slammed the next egg onto the counter top, sending fragments of egg white, yolk and shell splattering against the side of the refrigerator.

"Am I what?" Her voice rose as she spun around to face the teen.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that." Craig stood and backed towards the door. "I'm going back upstairs." He swallowed hard.

"Stop," Camille's voice was loud but smooth. The anger seemed to have faded.

"I'm really sorry Camille, I didn't mean…" Craig felt tears stinging hard and couldn't stop them from slipping from out when he tried to blink them back. He was going to lose control, he could feel it, and he didn't know how to stop it.

Camille let out a loud sigh, "No, I'm sorry." She spoke quickly. "It's been a long night, I'm tired and I guess I just had to let it out." She walked quickly across the kitchen tile and wrapped her arms around the boy. "What right do I have to have taking it out on you? It's not your fault." Her voice choked and Craig could tell she was starting to cry too. He tried to pull back from her hug, but she held on tight.

"You had a long night too, didn't you? I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I know you have to be a mess right now. Jerry told me some of what happened. Come on, get back over here and sit." She pulled him back over to the table and pushed him back into the chair. "I'll get you some food and we can talk."

"I'm really not hungry." Craig muttered.

"I know, but you can eat a little something." Camille walked back to the counter just as the toast popped up in the toaster. Now tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I'm sorry." She said again. "I know all of this has been hard on you, more so than anyone else."

It was only a minute later that she was setting a dish in front of the boy with two eggs and two slices of toast. Another moment passed and she set a glass of milk next to the plate.

"Okay, I'm going to tell you something, but you have to keep it a secret." Camille sat down in the chair next to Craig. "You can't tell Jerry, you have to promise me."

Craig nodded his head slowly. He felt terrible inside, and couldn't get rid of feeling dread that was building in his gut. Camille looked like she was about to tell him the worst possible news there was. Had she finally had it with the Mercers? Was she going to leave Jeremiah and divorce him? It would kill his brother if she did. The boy cringed when Camille drew in a deep breath and started to speak. He didn't want to hear more bad news. Camille was going to leave Jeremiah and it was going to be just one more thing for him to add to the long list of what was his fault. Why did she think she needed to tell him? He didn't want to hear it, he wanted to get up from the table and run. This was Jeremiah's wife; it was Jeremiah's business, not his.

Camille's words floated across the air in blue wisps, spinning around his head for a second before seeping in. It took another moment for them to actually form in his brain. "I'm pregnant." The short statement hung in his head before it took hold of his brain and snapped him out of his own thoughts.

"You're what?" Craig felt a heavy weight lift from his chest. He wasn't sure why, but he felt better.


	39. Chapter 39

As always, I do not own the Mercer boys, (except for Craig) and I profit in no way. (Except in the form of reviews)

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**Chapter 39: Thoughts**

Jack paced back and forth in the small waiting area outside the hearing room. He remembered the area from when he was a kid. It was where Family Court and more casual cases were usually held; the rooms weren't official court rooms but they still had the look and feel of authority, at least to a juvenile offender, or foster kid sitting next to a case worker about to hear a decision about where he was going to be living. When he was very young one of his first case workers told him the atmosphere was supposed to be more relaxed than a court room so that people wouldn't feel intimidated.

Well it didn't work, Jack had felt more intimidated in one of those damn hearing rooms than he'd ever felt in a regular court room. At least in a court room it was open to the public and no one could corner you without witnesses. Here, the doors were closed and everything was supposed to be confidential and hush-hush. Hell, a person could disappear from one of those damn hearing rooms, never be heard of again and no one would know what happened to them. Jack suddenly wished this whole thing could be taken care of in an open courtroom with lots and lots of people around to watch. The way things had been going for the Mercers lately, he needed all the witnesses he could get.

The younger Mercer gave his head a slight shake as he paced across the hard wood. He was thinking too much. His eyes fell on Jerry, who was sitting on the wooden bench up against the wall next to the hall leading out to the lobby, he was as far away from the door Jack was pacing in front of as he could get and still be sitting with his head resting back and his eyes closed. Jerry had insisted they get there early, said it would look good. So they had gotten there twenty minutes before ten and the hearing was supposed to be at ten. It was now twenty after and they were still waiting. Robert had called Jerry's cell phone and told him that he was on his way, he'd been in contact with the District Attorney, and he assured Jerry that there was nothing to worry about, but Jack couldn't get rid of the bees buzzing around in his chest. He wanted a cigarette, but he couldn't go out to get one, he'd already signed in with the bailiff and there was no way anyone would let him out of the building until after the hearing, and then only if the judge decided the charges against him were bullshit.

The judge could very well decide there was a reason to haul his ass back to jail and follow through with the charges Harris had raised against him. Especially since Harris was now dead and that was going to have to be explained. Yeah, everyone was saying that Harris' true agenda had been exposed and that Winston's statement would back them up on that. Green had said there was no way the charges could stick. It had been proven that Jack obviously had no choice but to shoot Adam Macks, and no matter how Harris had tried to twist the truth around to his own liking, there just wasn't any way for the man to manipulate facts enough to make Jack look like a cold blooded killer. That didn't mean Harris didn't have some kind of evidence that he was sure would back up his case. He must have had something or he wouldn't have started the whole process, would he?

Again Jack thought of the Mercer luck and envisioned a miracle video tape of Jack shooting Macks being presented to the judge as evidence. Of course his imagination kicked in as his brain invented the images that might be on a video of that nature. It was bound to show Macks cowering in front of him, begging for his life, and Bobby standing behind him, "Get him Jackie Poo! Show that fucker who the real man is, little sister!" Jack shook his head in an attempt to get rid of Bobby's voice and the image completely so that he could get back to reasonable thinking.

Maybe Harris had simply been trying to distract the Mercers, give them something else to deal with so that he could make whatever move he thought he needed to make. Maybe it had all been an empty threat, just like everyone kept saying, and Jack really didn't have anything to worry about, he wasn't sure. Thinking about it all only brought about more confusion, and doubt about his chances. He needed to stop thinking, but he couldn't turn off his brain, and if he stopped analyzing the whole mess the stupid images and Bobby's voice would just take over again.

When Angel called earlier, he'd said that Green and Johnson had been at the hospital taking statements from him and everyone who had been shot or grazed by bullets, at least the men who were still breathing. That meant Bobby, Johnny and Winston. Angel was currently trying to get the doctor to heavily sedate Bobby to keep his ass there, but the doctor seemed to think a head injury and a sedative didn't go well together; obviously he didn't know Bobby Mercer or he may have rethought that hypothesis. Bobby needed to stay in the hospital and get the medical attention, but just like with his ribs, he wouldn't listen to anyone. He wanted to get out of the hospital and come with Angel to the courthouse. It wasn't as if he could control what was going to happen, yet in his mind he had to be there or it just wouldn't work out in their favor, or in this case, in Jack's favor.

Angel had planned on leaving the hospital as soon as he could either get Bobby sedated, or manage to sneak away and leave him to the nurses to try to control. He hadn't checked in since, so maybe he had managed something and was on his way now. Jack hoped so, because he really needed something to distract him, and it didn't look hopeful that Jerry was going to help in that area. He looked over to the bench again, where Jerry seemed to be resting.

He felt for Jerry, the man was stressed and tired. He had his own home and family and everything he'd been doing for his brothers seemed to conflict with what he should have been doing for the wife and daughters who were depending on him. That just made for more stress; something that was made quite obvious late the night before, or maybe early this morning would be a better reference. Jerry was feeling pulled in too many directions and it was catching up to him.

As if he could see Jack looking in his direction through his closed eye lids Jerry mumbled words just loud enough for Jack to hear, "Jackie, do me a favor, would ya?"

"What." Jack spoke without realizing it; Jerry was going to try to have some kind of deep, meaningful talk and he wasn't sure he was up to it. He preferred clearing his head of his problems for the time being, if he could manage to stop thinking about them and get his brain spinning around something else. He looked away from his brother as he spun on his heels and paced back across the wooden floor. He wondered how old the floor was, and why they hadn't used tile. Tile would have taken less maintenance than the high polished wood; and couldn't they come up with another color besides beige for the walls? Really, if they wanted people to feel at ease, you would think they could come up with something a little more cheerful.

"Be still for five minutes." Jerry's tone was even and steady.

Jack's feet stopped and he shifted his body around to face his brother. "I can't." He shook his head, even though he knew Jerry couldn't see him with his eyes closed. "If I stop moving, I'll start thinking too much." Actually he was already thinking too much, but he didn't need to state that fact, he was afraid it would only stress Jerry out more.

Jerry let his left eye crack open enough to look up at Jack. "It's gonna be okay Jack. Harris never had a case against you. Robert said he'd been in contact with the District Attorney and he didn't seem worried at all; he'd tell us if the man was gonna pursue this. He said it was under control and there was nothing to worry about. You know, I take that to mean the D.A. ain't interested in wasting time and money on a case that is impossible for them to win. That means they don't believe you are guilty of murder."

"I killed the man Jerr'." Jack swallowed hard. He hated guns and the idea that he had ended another life, no matter how horrible a person Macks was, was a fact he would have to face every day. Bobby was alive though, and that's what he tried to focus on when he thought about his actions just a few days earlier. "I never lied about it. They have that fact and that's all they need, when it comes right down to it. They can twist it around to make it seem like murder if they decide to." He forced himself to voice the worry that was grinding at the back of his skull.

"You don't know if you killed him. You shot him, but no one really knows if you killed him. He was run over by a car, remember? And you only fired the gun because he was about to shoot Bobby. The cops and the D.A. have the evidence of what he'd done to Craig; they know he was a crazy son of a bitch who faked his death and that he was up to no good. Jordan has told them all kinds of shit, you know he has." Jerry sighed as he pulled himself away from the wall, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Both eyes were now open wide. "Winston's back from the dead too, remember? Whatever Winston tells them, it will back up everything we have told the cops; that man would be an idiot if he lied now. Green and Johnson both knew what was going on the whole time, we were working with them, their word is gonna mean more than anything a dirty, fucked up, aging federal agent could come up with. You just keep on tellin' the truth Jack, because that's gonna be what saves you. Yes, you shot him, and if you did kill him, it was not murder, that man forced you to pull that trigger. If you hadn't, there's no telling how many of us might have died that day, Bobby for sure, Craig, and maybe Angel."

Jack thought about Jerry's words. "Wait, why not you?" He shook his head.

"'Cause I'm too good looking and I've got an amazing wife and two beautiful daughters; and God likes me." Jerry let a small grin form. He still looked tired, but not nearly as bad as he had earlier that morning. The stress seemed to lift a little when he spoke about his family.

Jack nodded his head, "And why not me?" He questioned when he realized Jerry hadn't included him in his list.

"You were the one with the gun Jack." Jerry allowed his grin to spread.

Jack walked over and sat next to Jerry. Talking was distracting, and he needed all the distraction he could get at the moment. "It's been one hell of a night Jerry." He muttered.

"That it has. It almost feels like one long dream. Most of it doesn't feel like real. Does it?" Jerry turned to look at Jack.

"It feels like it happened, but it's so, I don't know, I feel like I'm detached from it." Jack kept his voice quiet. "I'm worried about Bobby, and about Craig."

"Yeah, well you don't need to. Craig's with Camille. He was sleeping like a baby when I left. And with any luck, Bobby's tied down to a hospital bed, giving all those beautiful nurses hell for not letting him leave." Jerry reached out and gave Jack a pat on the arm. "Right now, you're the one we're worried about."

Jack let Jerry's words sink in for a long moment. "I thought you just said there was no reason to worry, that it was all under control." he challenged.

"I lied to you Jack. Ain't you figured out yet that's what big brothers do?" The grin faded from Jerry's face. "Seriously, just because we know the truth, and we've got plenty of cops and witnesses to back us up, that don't mean that you ain't in deep shit, man. Yeah, we're worried. Why do you think Angel was having such a hard time keeping Bobby at the hospital? But Ma taught us to have faith too. So have a little faith. Just be thankful I'm the one here with you now, and not Bobby, 'cause he'd be giving you all kinds of hell."

As if on cue a commotion rose at the end of the long hall and an all too familiar voice echoed off the walls as if it was bouncing around in a tunnel. "What the fuck kind of shit is that? Who the hell said I couldn't come past this point?" Jack looked at Jeremiah and shook his head slowly, allowing his self to fall into a state of denial until the echo picked up again, "Of course I'm bleeding you asshole I've been shot!"

"I thought Angel was going to try to keep him at the hospital?" Jack moaned.

Jerry laughed quietly, though it was easy to see irritation behind his eyes. "You know Bobby, if they didn't sedate him, there wasn't much Angel could do. I'm surprised they got here this quick though, I just talked to Angel about twenty minutes ago and he was trying to sneak out of the hospital then."

"My brothers are in there, I've got to be in there." Bobby's voice rose in volume.

Jack and Jeremiah both leaned forward and turned their heads to look down the hall that led to the open lobby where the security desk was located. Bobby was walking towards them, accompanied by the same uniformed bailiff who had checked them in when they arrived. He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn all night, mud and guck had dried in a thin layer, though it was evident he had actually washed at the hospital. His head had a bandage taped to it. His face looked pale with no color. A big grin was etched across his mouth, proud of himself, no doubt, for managing to make it past the security checkpoint.

"Is this one with you?" The bailiff looked at Jeremiah when he asked the question, apparently thinking the man looked like he was in charge. Jack figured it was the tie and suit his brother sported. Jeremiah had told him appearance was going to go a long way. Not just Jack's, his supporters needed to look civilized too. Well, his point was reinforced by Bobby's present appearance and the doubtful expression on the bailiff's face.

Jack glanced down at the borrowed tie he had snagged from Angel's room; yep he needed to buy a few of those for himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if they came in black leather but he didn't have long to dwell on the thought before he was pulled back to the situation in front of him.

"Yeah, he's one of us." Jerry grinned as he claimed Bobby. "Sorry for his attitude, he's had a rough morning, being shot and all." He looked at Bobby and gave him a threatening glare.

The bailiff let out a huff before he turned and walked back up the hall without saying another word.

"Making friends again Bobby?" Jack stood to give his older brother a place to sit.

"Stupid son of bitch thought I was some thug off the street trying to make trouble." Bobby muttered as he sat down. The gash in the side of his head had been bandaged with thick gauze and tape, but blood had spotted and dried around it.

"How could anyone take you for a thug?" Jerry asked with a chuckle. He glanced back in the direction of the hallway. "Where is Angel? Parking the car?"

"Hell if I know. He went for coffee at the hospital and I ditched his ass. Son of bitch tried to get the fuckin' doctor to shoot me full of shit to make me sleep. I had to get out of there. I got a taxi, and man, he was all for breaking every traffic law in the books just to get my sorry ass out of the back of his car." Bobby managed a grin at his own hint that he'd been a real ass to the driver. He looked up at Jack. "How are you doin'? You okay?"

"I'm fine." Jack felt his legs twitch and gave into the urge to start his pacing again.

Jerry's phone rang, echoing off the walls with no warning, causing Jack to flinch. The man dug into his pocket and chuckled softly when he seen the number. "Angel." He muttered as he answered it. "Yeah, where in the hell are you?" He grinned and listened for a short time. "The hospital called ya? No, don't go back there to find Bobby, he's a big boy and he can take care of himself; there's no reason to feel guilty. Just park the car and get in here. It could start any minute." He looked at Jack and then Bobby.

Robert came into view at that moment, walking down the hall Bobby had just come down. He was grinning as he approached, until he seen Bobby sitting next to Jeremiah. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in the hospital."

"Angel, just park the car and get your ass in the courthouse." Jerry flipped his phone closed as he stood. "So what do you know?" His attention quickly focused on the attorney standing in front of him.

Jack found himself standing next to Robert but he wasn't sure how he got there. "What exactly did the D.A. say? You don't seem too worried, but you didn't tell us much before, do you know what they are planning on doing?" He didn't know where all of the questions were coming from as they spilled from his mouth. "What do you think the Judge will do today, what exactly did Harris have that he was able to bring it this far? Do you think…?"

"Jack, please calm down." Robert's left hand gripped a brief case, but his right hand came up and gave Jack a gentle pat on the arm. "Your mother was right, you do get excited easily." He let out a small sigh.

Bobby's eye brows rose slightly at the mention of their mother, Jack could see the man's temper starting to flicker. "Yeah, he's always a bundle of fucking nerves when he's facing murder charges." He spoke sarcastically.

Robert walked over to the bench and let his brief case rest where Jeremiah had been sitting. "The District Attorney has no intention of pursuing this. This hearing is merely a necessary formality. Mr. Porter should be here any minute. We have a good Judge too; he's not one that's easily swayed by outside influence."

"Meaning with any luck no one has managed to buy him off, right?" Bobby started to stand but only made it half way to his feet before he swayed slightly and fell back to the bench.

"I know this man. Once he knows the facts and we fill him in on what we've found out about Harris, well, it's impossible this farce could be permitted to proceed." Robert's cheerful voice seemed to cancel out the heaviness that had been residing in Jack's chest since he had been arrested the day before. He hadn't even realized he was feeling as bogged down as he was until that moment, when it lifted. Robert was telling them there was nothing to worry about, and he was cheerful and happy, borderline giddy if Jack had to try to think of a way to describe it.

"How can you be sure this is gonna go down smooth?" Jerry's strained voice interrupted Jack's relief.

"Nothing is ever this easy unless someone is getting money passed to them." Bobby spoke up. Jack felt the worry trying to creep back into his bones. Damn his brothers anyway. Couldn't they let him feel good about his chances?

"Bobby, believe it or not, sometimes the law works and the truth is all you need. Well, so long as you have the evidence to back you up that is, and we have that evidence." Robert's smile was weak, but it was there.

The four men were quiet for a long while. Jack started pacing again, but the silence was too heavy for him think.

"Mr. Bradford, can I ask you a question?" Bobby's gruffness broke the silence after what felt like hours.

"Of course," Robert nodded his head.

"Why the hell have you stuck with us through all the shit that's gone down?" Bobby snapped the words quickly. He sounded irritated, and it threw Jack off balance for a short second. Why the hell would Bobby decide to ask Robert a question like that now? He ended his pacing next to the bench, praying Bobby didn't start some stupid shit. That was the last thing he needed right then.

Robert opened his mouth to speak, but Angel chose that moment to call out from the end of the hall. He was with Green and Johnson.

Angel looked at Bobby and shook his head slowly, "Damn, you asshole!" He called out, but he grinned wide. He stopped at the other end of the bench and looked over at Jack. "You doin' okay Jackie Poo?"

Green and Johnson both looked as tired and worn down as the Mercers. Green was holding several thick folders in his hands and was about to say something when Mr. Porter appeared at the end of the hall behind them. "Well gentlemen," he spoke cheerfully as he got closer, "this shouldn't take too long."

The wooden door Jack had been pacing in front of for the past forty five minutes opened with no warning, causing him to start slightly. The rest of his life was on the line. Once he stepped through that door, there was no going back to Bobby's back up plan of running. A uniformed bailiff looked at the small group. "Jack Mercer?"

Jack nodded his head and tried to speak, but the sound that escaped was a squeaky croak. He wished Evelyn there right now to take that first step with him. He felt like a small child wanting his mother, but he couldn't help it. He looked at Robert. He had to trust this man with his future. Robert was the only one among them who understood the intricacies of the courts and how the law would or could work for them. He had stuck with the Mercers through a lot of shit lately.

It was at that moment that Jack understood Bobby's question. The man didn't really know the Mercers, but he had stood by them through everything that had happened; and now he was there, offering a kind of support that none of them were used to. Jack was also sure he could answer Bobby's question himself. He understood why Robert was there. It was because he had truly loved Evelyn Mercer. They'd had a real relationship and therefore, he'd probably had to listen to stories about her sons and all the bullshit they had thrown at her over the years. They had been a real couple and with that realization Jack felt a calmness fill his chest that he hadn't felt since he'd picked up the phone to hear Jerry's voice telling him his mother was dead. It felt nice having someone on his side that had been close to his mother in a way different than his brothers. It almost felt as if he had a parent with him. He looked at Robert and nodded his head slowly. Through Robert, Evelyn was still there with him, supporting him. Jack forced his brain to shake off his thoughts, grabbed hold of the front of Robert's coat and gave him a slight push forward, "Move."

Robert flashed Jack a weak smile, obviously surprised by the force behind the younger man's word, and walked through the door ahead of him. Jack sucked in a deep breath and tried to work up the nerve to follow Robert. In just a few minutes, he was going to find out if he was going to spend the rest of his life behind bars or walk out a free man.

"Fuck, Angel, don't hold my hand. You want some of that action go talk to your little sister over there." Bobby's voice was quiet but Jack refused to turn and look at what was taking place behind him. He could imagine Angel trying to help Bobby to his feet, the idiot was struggling against vertigo and unconsciousness; and he obviously wasn't accepting assistance from any one. "I don't need anyone fucking walking me in.….wait, just don't get too far ahead of me. And don't grab me; just let me lean a little."

Jack closed his eyes for a long moment and then stepped into the hearing room to face what was coming. Damn, he wanted a cigarette.


	40. Chapter 40

Do not own, make no money.

* * *

**Chapter 40: Information  
**

Craig forced the bite of egg down, but it hit his stomach like a lead ball. He wanted go back up the stairs and hide away in the guest room, where he'd been not too long ago. He tried to remember why he came down in the first place. It had sounded like a good idea at the time; he had felt a need to be around someone. He'd thought the girls would be there and that he could play with them, to get his mind on something other than what had happened over the past couple of days, or more to the point, over the past few hours. The image of Bobby's head snapping to the side kept flashing through his head and he couldn't stand it.

His mind was definitely on something else now. Camille was chatting about a baby. Craig tried to listen, but his brain was numb and a little overloaded as it was. He found he was only catching bits and pieces of what Camille was saying. She wanted a boy. She would have to change the guest room into a nursery, and that was going to take a lot of work. If she did have a boy, none of the girls' baby clothes or toys that she had packed away would do much good, she would need all new everything. She wasn't sure the crib that had been stored in the attic was salvageable. She loved the idea of keeping the colors neutral rather than gearing it all towards a boy or a girl, that way she could have everything ready early, before she got too big to do it the way she wanted to. She wasn't sure how far along she was exactly; with everything that had been going on she had somehow lost track of certain things, like that important 'monthly visitor', as she put it. She had an appointment with her gynecologist the coming week.

He was trying to be polite and listen, and part of him tried to feel happy for Camille and Jerry. He could remember the other times Camille had been pregnant, it had been exciting, but a baby always changed everything. He had been happy when both of the girls were born, but at the same time, he missed the way things were before. He wasn't sure he was ready for more change, not right now, not so soon after Evelyn's murder and everything that had happened since. Camille needed to talk about it though, obviously she'd been keeping the news to herself for a little while and now that she was able to tell someone about it, it was pouring out of her non-stop. On some level he could relate to that kind of need. It was obvious Camille was torn between being happy and feeling scared that something terrible would happen to her family.

But at that moment he didn't really think he could handle the discussion that was taking place, there had never been discussions like this when Camille was pregnant before, at least none that the boy had ever been a part of. Maybe it was a conversation Camille would have had with Evelyn if she'd been there, or maybe even with Jerry, but Craig didn't want to hear some of what Camille was saying, he simply couldn't handle it. He was fourteen years old and he didn't know how to talk about babies.

Evelyn Mercer had been quite open with all of her sons concerning sex. It wasn't as if they hadn't already been introduced to it in one way or another by the time they got to her, and she told Craig once that it made more sense to talk openly about it rather than to hide from it. She preferred her boys to feel comfortable coming to her and asking questions rather than to find out they had heard stories on the street about how Tabasco sauce could prevent pregnancies. Apparently Angel had heard that one, believed it, and came home with some discomfort. Sofi's brother hadn't been too happy to hear Angel had been testing this theory on his sister either, so that led to more discomfort. When he came home with a swollen lip and eye he had to explain everything to Evelyn, who promptly corrected his misguided thinking.

Sex was still a touchy subject for Craig, although Evelyn Mercer told him many, many times that what was done to him when he was little was not the same. It was not love. What had happened to him had nothing to do with what sex was supposed to be, and one day, when he was older, he would understand it all better. He hated talking about it, or thinking about it, especially after everything that had happened since the night Evelyn was killed. His feelings on the subject were pretty raw to say the least, there were still open wounds that hadn't had a chance to heal; he hadn't dealt with it all. It seemed every time he came close to facing those fears and thinking it was over, something else happened to suck him right back into his own shell where he was safe.

So, when Camille, caught up in her news of being a mother again, and obviously riding a hormonal driven emotional roller coaster, started talking to him about hormones and monthly cycles and being late, and having an appointment with her gynecologist, the boy thought his brain was going to burst right out of his skull. He was overloaded with information he didn't need to hear.

He didn't mean to sound as if he weren't happy, he was sure he was happy about a new baby, but he really couldn't feel it at that moment. "Camille, I'm really tired, do you mind if I go back up and lie down?" He dropped the remains of his egg back on the plate and watched it fall next to the untouched toast as he stood without giving Camille a chance to voice her permission. He looked at her though, as he stepped backwards towards the doorway.

Camille's smile faded and she looked as if she'd been kicked in the stomach, hard. "Fine, go lie down. Here I've been going on and on about a baby, and I know you have to be exhausted." The woman looked as if she were about to pout. "Just remember, you don't mention this to Jeremiah. I don't know for certain. I mean, I know, but I need to have confirmation from the doctor before I tell him, and well, I want to be the one who gives him the news."

Craig nodded his head, turned, and moved quickly towards the stairs. If he could reach the safety of the guest room he would hole up in it until his brothers returned from the courthouse.

The egg-turned-lead ball rolled sharply in his stomach as soon as the thought of the courthouse hit his brain. He glanced at the clock hanging close to the stairs, ten thirty. The hearing should have started, shouldn't it? He couldn't remember anyone telling him what time the hearing was, but it had been over an hour since Jerry left, he was sure. Was Angel going to be there too or was he staying at the hospital with Bobby? He tried not to let his thoughts dwell on Bobby too much. That feeling of dread that had hovered over him earlier was starting to return. His brain shifted into automatic and the 'what if' game took over.

What if Jack went back to jail and he never got to see him again? What if they arrested Angel next for shooting Harris? What if Bobby was really shot and was dead and he had only dreamed the bullet missed him? What if all of his brothers were arrested as soon as they got to the courthouse and now someone worse than Harris was going to come and take him away, again, and his brothers wouldn't be able to find him this time?

"Craig?" Camille's voice brought him out of his thoughts. He realized he'd stopped on the second step of the stairway. He looked at Camille, and tried to hold in the tears that were stinging to get out.

Camille was standing next to the banister, almost next to him, "Are you okay?" She smiled but there was a frown around her eyes. Apparently finding the teen on the steps, just standing there, lost in his thoughts was a cause for worry.

Craig nodded his head slightly at first, but then he shook it slowly. "I don't know." He muttered and looked away from Camille. "What if they are all arrested at the courthouse? What if they don't come back?"

Camille still smiled, but it didn't quite reach far enough to convince the boy she meant it. "I'm sure everything will be fine. They've got enough people on their side; the right people. What could go wrong? I mean, Bobby sure as hell can't screw anything up, he's at the hospital, right?"

Craig held his breath for a long moment. Maybe he was dreaming right now. Maybe he would wake up and he'd be locked up somewhere, with those men, James and William, guarding him; or he might wake up standing in front of a grave with Bobby's name on it; or staring at his brothers behind bars. He couldn't stand it if the next time he seen his brothers it was in a jail. It seemed wrong that they were fighting, together, for their family and he wasn't there with them. "I want to go to the courthouse." He focused his gaze on Camille. After so many years of distrust and building up walls, it was difficult to understand the pressure building in his chest at the thought of losing his brothers. He'd put so much effort into expecting the worst from them and it hadn't happened. They had been hard on him when they needed to be, but they had been good to him, better than he probably deserved most of the time. The fear of never belonging had been so bright and strong that it had blinded him to the fact that he belonged with his brothers more than he could ever belong anywhere else. The Mercers were tied together by something stronger than blood that he couldn't quite grasp, he only knew it was a force he couldn't keep fighting against.

"No, Jeremiah said there was no reason for you there, you need to get some sleep, and a shower. Just try to not think about it. Jeremiah will call as soon as he knows anything." Camille shook her head.

"But what if…" Craig started to argue.

"No, Craig, I am not taking you down there." Camille shook her head, almost with too much fierceness.

Craig felt his heart tighten. He wanted to be with his brothers. He had tried to keep walls up around his emotions, and now he might not need to worry about those invisible walls because of very real bars; he might never see them again, none of them, and he wasn't sure he could handle that. "But what if I can say something that might keep Jack out of jail? The more people there who can back up Jack's story, the better it would be, right?"

"But you can't say anything that they don't already know." Camille shook her head.

"Angle shot a man this morning. What if they send Jack to jail, and then go after Angel? Jerry was there too, they would go after Jerry next, right?" Craig argued, "Because he's a Mercer." He nodded his head as if to agree with his own logic. "Camille, I need to be there."

"No, you do not need to be there. You are fourteen years old, and you don't need to see what's going on at that courthouse." Camille shook her head. Tears rimmed her eyes and Craig suddenly felt terrible. He'd made her cry because he'd said something about Jerry being arrested. He hadn't meant to make her cry; he'd thought she'd give in and take him to the courthouse.

"Jeremiah can't be arrested, he hasn't done anything, and if they go after Angel, we'll fight to get him out, just like we'll fight to keep Jack out of jail." Camille's lower lip quivered. "And if Angel shot someone this morning, I'm sure Lieutenant Green will testify that he had no choice." She hesitated for a moment and a confused expression shadowed her features. "He didn't have a choice, right?"

Craig shook his head quickly. "No, he didn't have a choice. He did it to save Jack, and me." He tried not to dwell on the details of had happened that morning, it would only end with that awful picture of Bobby being shot in the head and falling out of sight down the hill.

Camille stared at the boy for a long moment before she turned away, walked over to the closet and pulled out her coat. "Well go get your shoes on." She spoke quickly. "You can't walk into the courthouse looking like that, we'll have to stop at the house and get you some decent clothes."

Craig looked down at the clothing he'd changed into at the hotel. It had only been a few short hours before that he'd been admiring the fancy fixtures and the way the water in the shower had felt, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Yeah, Jerry's oversized clothes wouldn't look quite right in public. The time that it took the boy to think about the clothes and the hotel was the same time it took him to comprehend what Camille was saying. "We're going?"

"Of course we're going." Camille turned back to look at the boy. The tears were till there, but the shine in her gaze came from something else. "I'm pregnant, I already have two baby girls; and if you think I'm gonna let my children's father be arrested for doin' nothing but try to give a decent life for his babies you are crazy. So if you are going, be in the kitchen in two minutes. You need to take your pills and then we can go." She turned and walked back towards the kitchen.

It took a second for the meaning of Camille's words to hit the teen's brain. He moved up the steps quickly to search for his shoes.

* * *

Bobby sat in between Jeremiah and Angel, though he would have preferred to be sitting at the end of the neat row of metal chairs that lined the wall, he felt boxed in. He hated the room. He'd been in court rooms and hearing rooms too many times to count; and nothing good ever came out of anything that happened there. Well, maybe one good thing did happen that he could remember and appreciate; his adoption became official in a room pretty fucking similar to this one.

Unfortunately, what was taking place at the large table in front of him was nothing pleasant. Jack sat next to Robert; Mr. Porter was positioned on the opposite side with Green and Johnson seated with him, and a man in a suit and tie, supposedly the judge, was seated at the head of the table. Bobby listened to Robert and Mr. Porter both talk about the charges. Words like 'ongoing investigation', and 'undetermined cause of death' crept across the table.

Bobby could barely hear what was going on, and part of that probably had to do with the fucking ringing in his right ear. He'd had to listen to it constantly since he'd been shot. Okay, technically he hadn't been shot; the bullet had barely brushed against him. Well, maybe more than brushed, it had caused a concussion. Okay, so maybe the fall down the hill may have had something to do with the concussion part. It didn't matter how he got hurt, either way he really wouldn't have felt too damn bad if it weren't for that fucking ringing tone that was buzzing the right side of his head, making the room tilt slightly from time to time and causing him to stumble around like he'd had a few too many shots of something alcoholic. He wouldn't mind a couple of shots of something alcoholic about then, it might actually calm his nerves.

The judge did not smile, he did not nod, nor did he seem to take notice of Bobby's little brother seated rigidly next to Robert. Bobby noticed what was happening with Jack though, and it pissed him off that his brother had to go through this. The kid was chewing on his left thumb and his right leg was bouncing under the table, probably to the beat of some fucked up song that had no fucking melody or rhythm. The kid was scared shitless. The judge simply skimmed through papers and asked questions; Mr. Porter or Robert seemed to take turns answering the questions. From time to time some of the words made it past the ringing in Bobby's ear and he could make out 'involuntary manslaughter', 'self defense' and 'justifiable homicide'; though he wasn't exactly certain who said what, or in what context the words were being used.

Jack fidgeted while more words passed across the table. Legal jargon bullshit was all it was; designed to make a lawyer's job look hard so the poor son of a bitch who hired him would feel a little less pissed about having to pay him. In this case Robert had not been paid shit though, so it made sense to Bobby that the conversation taking place around the table be brought down to a more understandable level. Of course, if that fucking ringing would stop stabbing into his head, maybe he could get more out of the words that were being spoken.

"Gentlemen, I understand what you are saying." The Judge looked at Mr. Porter, "However, we are have an obligation to investigate the incident completely."

"Your Honor, we are doing just that, and if any evidence comes up that points to Mr. Mercer firing that weapon for any reason other than self defense and in defense of his family, then you can be assured we will pursue all avenues of prosecution available to us. However, given the circumstances surrounding the whole incident, we do have to consider this a part of the Jordan/Macks kidnapping case. Mr. Jordan confessed to assisting Adam Macks in the kidnapping of Craig Mercer. He also stated that Adam Macks was obsessed with the Mercers and determined to kill them all by any means possible." Porter nodded his head slowly in rhythm with the syllables of his words.

"Also, Your Honor, if there were any discrepancies in the witness' statements, I could understand how this case came this far. Police evidence and officers' statements back up everything that my client's statement describes. Jack Mercer had no choice but to fire that weapon." Robert spoke calmly and slowly, but only half of the words made it past the wooden table and across the room to where Bobby was sitting.

Only being able to comprehend parts of the proceedings was starting to wear thin on the eldest Mercer's nerves. He fidgeted in his seat and nearly shot to his feet. Angel's hand grabbing hold of his arm is all that stopped him. He tried to sit back and listen, but damn that ringing was driving him nuts.

"I am well aware of the history of this case. I also know the claims Federal Agent Harris filed. An FBI agent has raised alarms concerning this case, those concerns cannot be ignored, even if the man is dead. The files you sent over were very revealing concerning your client, Mr. Bradford, but it's my understanding that Agent Harris had some evidence of his own." The judge sighed and sat back in his seat. "I simply cannot ignore the concerns of a government agency, especially the FBI."

"There are new facts that have come to light in recent hours. You are aware that Agent Harris is dead. We have evidence that he had turned, sir." Porter lifted a folder and slid it across the table to within reach of the judge.

"Turned?" The judge didn't reach for the folder.

"He was working with one the nation's most notorious crime organizations. It's not the biggest threat by far, but one that has grown steadily over recent years, and has quite a few fingers in our own local government." Porter slid another folder in the direction of the judge. "I have several cases all linked together, all involving Agent Harris, Adam Macks, Victor Sweet's organization, Jessup Winston, and the Mercers." More folders moved to the center of the table.

"The Mercers," the judge flicked a quick glance towards the Mercer brothers seated against the wall before sliding a pile of his own files to the center of the table. "You are aware of the history and the records of the Mercers." He looked pointedly at Porter.

Bobby suddenly felt as if he were watching a very tense, very high stake poker game. Fuck, this wasn't good.

"Sir, correct me if I'm wrong, but this isn't a case against the Mercer family." Robert spoke quickly. "These are accusations against one man."

"No, Mr. Bradford, it is not a case against the Mercer family." The judge looked at Jack. "However, the accused does have a record, and a history of drug use and distribution, and happens to be a Mercer. I find it unlikely that's a coincident."

Jack noticeably held his breath while he rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans. Bobby wanted to yell at the stupid fuckers seated around the table to read the fucking statements, again, and leave his brother alone.

"And again, your honor, that is not what we are here about. His juvenile record has no bearing on the proceedings before us today." Robert spoke quickly. "The Mercer brothers have a reputation in this city, that is very true, but this is not about them, or their history. It's about the here and now."

"It does help to clarify the type of person we are dealing with…" The judge started to speak.

"The type of person we are dealing with?" Robert's voice was loud enough to break through the ringing. It surprised Bobby to hear the angry tone coming from a man who was usually so calm. "First of all, Your Honor, my client's juvenile records were sealed; they cannot be brought forward for these proceedings or future dealings with this court. Jack Mercer was a troubled teen. Why was he a troubled teen?" Sarcasm dripped from the attorney's words. "Oh, yes, because our system failed him, more than once. He was tossed around from one foster home to another as if he were no more than a name on a piece of paper that could be shuffled from one in-box to another, handing the responsibility of his care off to people who didn't want anything to do with him, with no regards to what scars it might leave on him."

"His experience in our foster care system is not why we are here." The judge countered, and then let out a huff and sat back in his seat. His entire demeanor seemed to transform. His shoulders slumped slightly and his voice seemed to pick up the street accent Bobby had grown used to hearing daily when he dealt with thugs as a habit. "Gentlemen, this is a closed-door hearing, less formal. I already know the facts of this case. Neither of you have placed evidence on this table that I have not already reviewed. I want to hear or see something that will convince me to throw this case out. I know its bullshit." He looked at Porter. "You still haven't given me anything that I can use as evidence that this case should not go any further, or that Mr. Mercer should not be awaiting a trial from behind bars. No matter the circumstances, Mr. Mercer has admitted quite openly that he aimed and fired that gun. His written statement describes how he shot a man. In order to dismiss this case I need something that can convince me that he felt his life was in danger. Where is that?"

That was all Bobby could handle. He could see where this was going; he understood exactly what the judge was saying. The fucking truth on its own just wasn't good enough. If Bobby had thought about it at the time he probably would have had a fucking camera strapped to his forehead to video the damn proof for the world to see. He stood quickly, avoiding Angel's attempt to pull him back into the chair. "Your evidence, your fucking proof, is sitting right here." He spoke a little too loud, he was sure, and his anger was showing; but he really didn't give a shit. "Me and my brothers would be dead right now if Jack hadn't fired that gun."

The judge turned and looked at Bobby. Shit. Looking at the man straight on gave Bobby a better view of his face. He knew him. This man had sentenced Bobby Mercer to jail the last time he'd had a run in with the cops and he was one hell of a hard ass who liked to lecture about the law and right and wrong. He'd actually had an effect on the younger version of Bobby Mercer by giving him a chance and letting him slide with probation. But when Bobby fucked up that chance, the man had smiled wide when he'd sentenced him to six months behind bars. He'd shown some compassion, but when Bobby fucked up, he had stayed true to his word, something Bobby wasn't used to from anyone other than Evelyn. Looking at him now, Bobby remembered how that had been a turning point in his life. He'd had to re-think the direction he was headed. He could have gone down the same road as Victor Sweet and gotten really cozy with gangsters instead of choosing to beat the shit out of people on the ice in a fucking awesome game called hockey. Now, this same man was about to decide Jack's future. He would decide if there would be a trial, or if the whole mess could be dropped.

Bobby stared at the man for a long moment, swallowed hard, and as an afterthought added one last word to his statement, "Sir." Damn, that made his head hurt. With any luck the judge wouldn't remember him. How could he? He'd probably seen thousands of kids in his courtroom over the years, how could he possibly remember Bobby Mercer?

The judge stared for what felt like forever before he nodded his head slowly. "Bobby Mercer. You got any lighters in your pocket this morning?"

Bobby let out a huff. Well fuck. "No sir." His hands drifted to feel his pants pockets as he spoke the words. No harm in double checking.

A smile creased the judge's features. "You haven't changed a bit, have you Bobby?"

Bobby felt his eyes narrow. "The hell I ain't." He fought to hold his temper in. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Oh, right, he just happened to be the fucking judge with Jack's future laid out on the table in front of him.

The judge laughed. Hell, what was the man's name? Bobby's brain couldn't seem to grab hold of that type of information at the moment. He felt a little dizzy, and maybe kind of nauseous.

The judge stood and stepped towards Bobby. "You've still got the attitude Bobby."

Bobby felt the corners of his mouth twitch as he remembered what this very same man had said to him while he sentenced him. "Hell, ain't the attitude good, as long as you apply it in the right areas?"

"Only if you don't get arrested," The man stopped in front of Bobby. "Listen to me. I know this is all bullshit. I'm not stupid. But the law is the law. I know Harris was dirty, I've seen the evidence that points to that. He's dead, so unfortunately we cannot charge him with anything and his allegations are quite damaging. I simply need more information."

"What allegations?" Bobby demanded. "What the fuck did he say that got my little brother here?" He motioned around him to the walls of the room.

"The judge looked at Bobby hard. "I wish I could say, but I can't. Because whether I believe it or not, it is not exclusive to Jack's case only."


End file.
